


The Angel's Share

by Rebecca_Anders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Present Tense, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebecca_Anders/pseuds/Rebecca_Anders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell is a distillery. It takes the soul, macerates it, then leaves what remains to mature. But what happens when the angels come to take their share and find something worth savoring? This story follows Dean as he discovers Castiel for the first time and learns just what it means to be restored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the Supernatural universe this story diverts from the canon. The divergence here is that Castiel has not appeared to Dean after Hell, in fact Dean has yet to learn of angels at all.
> 
> I've decided I want some brooding and sweeping visuals told in present tense, and Cas & Dean lend themselves beautifully to the writing style. Thanks for all the support for my first fiction, A Dichotomy of Feathers, I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of July 30, 2015 I am editing all of this story, fixing the flow, word choices, etc. I'm not changing any details of it however, so if you come in mid-write you won't miss anything. Once the edits are done I'll begin writing again..it's high time I finish this one!
> 
> We have a long road ahead of us...so let's get to it!

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**an·gel's share**  (ān′jəlz)

 _n._   _Informal_

The quantity of an alcoholic liquor lost to evaporation during the distilling process.

 **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—** **—**

Another day. Another bar. Another group of women scrambling for a 'bad boy'. Dean is getting sick of it. He gives a silent sigh and twists his bottle around absently.

Not that he minds all of the attention, it makes staying distracted incredibly easy. Maybe too easy sometimes. A wink goes a long way and his reputation practically oozes off him. Plus with his job and lives distractions are necessary on a nearly daily basis. Even Sammy has to cave sometimes and spend a night forgetting, though he tends to have trouble severing those ties. That part is easy for Dean.

Sam likes to remind him that they should have normal lives, should marry and settle down. And as much as he outwardly agrees with his brother, he doesn't believe in that for himself. His father had had that life. A wife, two kids, a house, a normal job. What had that gotten him and his sons? A life of heartache and deep psychological scars. He's firmly a believer in 12 hour love now. But no need to ruin the dream for Sam, poor kid needs all the positive he can get and seems content to fool himself, so he'll keep shut on the topic. He can just ignore the loneliness as he always does, with plenty of drink and company.

 _Ow_. Speaking of that brother, he's nudging Dean hard in the ribs from where they stand at the bar. Sam catches his eye over his bottle then nods to the two women across the bar. The unspoken question in his eyes tells Dean that this is one of those times Sam needs a night of distraction.

"You go ahead man, I'm beat. Probly gonna head back after this one."

Sam snorts, "The hell's wrong with you? You've been acting weird again since that salt and burn yesterday."

O yes, that was a fun job. And not fun in the happy way. Raised way too many fucking questions that Sam of course kept asking for hours. It was an easy enough job, a woman who had spent her life alone and isolated, then haunted the farm house she'd lived in by herself for 50 years. It's one of those fears Dean has developed since Hell. Losing Sam to a woman or the job, then finding himself alone. He'd certainly be the hunter version of a crazy cat lady. Insane gun guy? Doesn't have the same ring.

"Yea well, wore me out, plus that last place had horrible beds. Hardly slept for those 4 hours we got," he says, draining the rest of his beer. It's part of the truth at least, the part that he's willing to share. "But you go ahead, I'll meet you at the motel tomorrow. Don't have anything to head off to yet."

Sam is only half paying attention, making eyes at the small brunette of the two girls. "Yea yea, I'll be there tomorrow if not tonight," she starts walking over, hips swaying just marginally more than necessary, "Definitely not tonight."

Dean gives a small huff of a chuckle, his brother certainly got the cute approachable genes, makes picking up sweet fun girls easy. "You have fun bro, try and stay safe."

Sam isn't pretending to pay attention anymore, and just waves a hand of acknowledgment in his general direction.

Dean plops down some bills and nods thanks to the bar tender then heads out alone.

* * *

Of all the things Dean is a hypocrite about it's researching that he tries to pretend hatred for the most. Or maybe just second most...actually no third, but regardless it's one of the top things.

Truth is he loves doing it, but smarts are supposed to be Sam's thing, and the poor kid has always jumped at the chance to use his brain. He even caved to letting Sam splurge on some noise cancelling headphones so he could blast his tunes in the car while Sam read. He'd been letting him do it since he got back from his attempt at college and normal life. Seemed to keep him complacent. If only slightly.

With Sam off for the night he takes a leisurely shower, scrubbing with the cheap motel soap until he feels squeaky. Even takes the extra time to actually use the conditioner. Which for him, is on the same level as a spa day. Which it's not. Spas are for women.

Feeling clean and loose from the hot water he dries off quickly, slips on some boxers and plops down on the little twin bed with the computer. He spends a little bit sifting through news sites. There are a few stories that sound like their kind of thing. Cleaning service out in Minnesota has tried to go viral with their search for missing workers. Looks like their maids are disappearing from their cars along busy roads. Maids would be a good gig, maybe they'd even have cute uniforms. He pulls over a notebook and writes down some of the info.

Possible werewolf in Floria, nothing new there, state's crawling with weird. Some bizarre fires out in Idaho, too far. Haunting in Massachusetts, now that's interesting. He writes down some more notes. Best to call Bobby in the morning and see if he has something near them or if he already has someone on it.

He closes the laptop, it's not really holding his interest tonight, and glances at the clock. Only 11 pm, not yet time for bed. He's bone weary for sure, but there is no quieting his mind. He feels revved up and distracted. But there's another emotion under that he can't figure out. Boredom? Anxiety?

He flips on the TV absently and finds a car show on, but it only lasts til midnight. Maybe he'll call Bobby once it's over, old man never sleeps anyways.

By the time midnight rolls around Dean is fast asleep. TV still playing quietly and casting him in shifting lights. His dreams are restless, dragging from scene to scene with no coherence.

But, one dream in particular plays out vividly in his mind. One of those rare lucid dreams he hears people talk about, where he is aware and making choices.

_He's standing in an endless field of knee height yellow wild flowers, they have a sugary scent with a hint of spice to it. Cinnamon? The sky is impossibly turquoise blue, cloudless, and stretching on for miles upon miles. A breeze starts up, rippling the flowers like an ocean and blowing against him with warmth. He turns in a circle, taking in the surroundings, and spots a hill out in the distance. The breeze kicks up and pushes against him, urging him toward the hill._

_The moment he tries to take a step he is whisked forward, taking only a few seconds to get there. It is a dream after all._

_As he climbs to the top he finds a small girl with wavy golden hair sitting and making chains from the flowers. She ignores his presence, focusing on her task._

_"Where's Sammy?"_

_"Gone."_

_Well alright then. "What about Bobby? Ellen, Jo?"_

_"Gone too."_

_He pauses, wondering who else he could turn to for help. "Dad?"_

_"Gone."_

_Just great. He sits down next to her, noticing the blanket she's on for the first time. She pauses as he stretches out his legs. With a deep sigh, he looks around at the fields again. "Well at least I've got you. What's your name anyways?" He turns to look at her but there's just the little flower circlet. She's gone. Gone like the rest of them apparently, and now Dean is sitting in a field of flowers with a small crown placed beside him for company. Completely and utterly alone._

Just as he is when he wakes on the twin bed in their ratty motel room, drenched in sweat and trembling.

* * *

The drive the next morning is beautiful. The boys have good tunes, some road snacks, and plenty of good weather. Spring is just turning into summer, the leaves fully opened and the crisp freshness starting to wear off. Still hasn't gotten hot enough to turn on the spotty A/C, so in Dean's book this is perfect.

He has Sam call Bobby once they got out of town. Fortunately he's shut up about 'Jane' by now. If Dean has to hear another minute of his brother gushing like a middle school girl about how fantastic and smart and funny she was he might actually hurl. A key difference between them, lays are a means to an end for Dean but for Sam it's a 'vital human connection' or some shit. Damn kid went hippy in California.

"Yea no it was an easy one Bobby, didn't take as long as we thought. New owners were good about letting us do our thing."

Silence while Bobby talks, broken with a few 'yea's and 'ok's from Sam. Dean rolls his window back up as they hit the highway going east. It sticks a little, might need some work to make sure it goes smooth. Added to the ever growing list of repairs he'll make next time they hit Sioux Falls.

"Oh ok, didn't realize he was out that way, I guess we'll take the other. Not too far from us anyways. Thanks for your help, we'll let you know if anything seems weird," Sam says, getting out the map with the phone held between his jaw and shoulder, "Will do. Thanks Bobby."

"So which one are we taking, the disappearances of hopefully French maids or the haunted church?" Dean asks once Sam puts the phone down.

"Church. Looks like Rufus is training Jeff's kid with the other."

"He old enough for that now? Damn, felt like last year he was in kindergarten. So which way to Quincy, Massacheusets?"

"Not sure yet but it's north of here so...guess start heading that way? Towards Boston, kinda." Sam says, burying his head in the map with his brows drawn together in concentration.

"Will do. Guess we should play some Boston if we're going to Boston," Dean smiles and pulls out the right cassette. The unamused bitch face he gets is well worth the horrible attempt at humor. But Sam can't hold it for long and within a few verses he's singing right along with his big brother.

About an hour out from Quincy Sam starts in on researching the job. An old church has been having some bizarre occurrences recently, choir members seeing benches move, a few apparitions, and the priest swore to the journalists that he'd heard the organ playing, though it had been damaged for years. Nothing terribly concerning or violent, but things have been slow for a while so they can take the time to look into easy cases and relax. It does a man good after hel- nope, not even going there. Dean's in too good of a mood to spoil it with those thoughts.

"I'll look into any weird deaths there but churches are difficult," Sam grumbles, pulling out a notebook to organize his thoughts.

"Yea I know, too many funerals and dead people around. Maybe we should just seance the whole place."

Sam gives a blank stare at the side smile Dean has, which vanishes quickly, "Dude I'm not serious, lighten up!"

A soft sigh is all he gets from the passenger seat and Sam goes back to his research. If he's going to be a little bitch like that then Dean deserves more tunes, so with a flick of his fingers the volume's up and he's belting out verses.

* * *

After getting a room at the first motel in the phone book they pull up to one of the diners in town. Hunting requires hunters food, only grease and coffee will do for that, though Sam likes to have rabbit food with his. Dean still hates the sight of it, isn't trustworthy.

While he's deciding on what to order, Sam uses his FBI badge and boyish charms to get the WiFi password from the waitress. Dean's pretty sure Sam would actually cry if he had to go more than 24 hours without the internet. The petite blonde waitress is more than willing to oblige him with the password as well as her phone number.

Halfway through the meal Sam has compiled all of the notes he can get on the case. The church is old, built around 1834, and has been quiet over the years. There was a murder on site back in the 60s, but no hauntings have happened until the past year. The priests assigned to the church have been model citizens, all staying until retirement or death. Nothing that would set off any red flags.

"We should probably ask the priest about what he heard," Sam says, "And wouldn't hurt to talk to the rest of the congregation."

"Sounds good. You handle the priest, I've never been good at acting Godly. It'd be even worse now that I've literally played at being the devil."

"But wouldn't your time down there have made you more of a believer?"

"Ugh don't start on that again. Doing time in Hell doesn't make me a God squader. Just made me more pissed at how shitty the whole system is," he grumbles. Seriously, Sam and his 'aren't you having a life crisis all the time' bullshit. He's dealing, and dealing pretty damn well he might add. Hell of a lot better than he'd dealt with dad dying, so Sam needs to stop being such a girl before he belts him in the backseat with a gag. Dean stands, knocking back the rest of his coffee. "You ready?"

"Yea, right behind you."

* * *

Dean had forgotten how much he hates cases that deal with churches. It isn't the building itself or even the ideals and beliefs that really piss him off. It's the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Priests always have skeletons in their closets, usually ones far more gruesome, perverse, and disturbing than your average person. And the other church members? Well, let's just say that the men and women alike all scramble for a piece of handsome firm young ass like his and Sam's.

This one has been no exception. Of the five choir members he's spoken to about the things they'd been experiencing he's received five phone numbers. One lady, if she can even be called that, went so far as to run a hand up his thigh while they were talking. He'd stood up as abruptly as he could before she got too high up, knocking the coffee she'd given him onto the floor. He didn't feel too bad about the soiled carpet.

His only saving grace is that Sam got the same treatment, so they can complain together.

"God it was just so gross. Fucking priests are always trying to get a damn twink. Barely even got any information," Sam whines, flopping down across his bed. The beds are barely big enough to fit Dean, so Sam's extra height is making it look like it belongs in a doll house.

"What'd he offer this time? Money or salvation?"

"Neither! He just outright said he'd be at his office late if I wanted to stop by and 'chat'. Stared right at my crotch the whole time he said it. Licked his lips and everything. Ugh I want a shower, or five," he gets up and slams around into the bathroom.

Dean can't help but laugh. As much as he doesn't like a creepy old man trying to molest his little brother, the kid can easily take care of himself. Poor priest wouldn't even have a chance against Sam with a weapon. Plus Sam isn't a kid anymore, he is more than capable of dealing with things himself, but old protective habits die hard. "Well at least you can say he has good taste!"

Sam groans from the other room over the sound of the shower, "You're so gross! Just drop it."

Dean flips on the TV and waits for Sam to shower off. Nothing on worth watching but he changes between channels to keep entertained. Sam comes out dripping water on the dirty carpet with his jeans slung low on his hips. Dean turns the TV off and asks, "What'd he tell you about the case, anything?"

Sam towels off his hair, tossing it about. Looks like a girl when he does that. "Said he'd been hearing organ music off and on. They have an old pipe organ that hasn't worked in decades. More for show than anything. But I guess it's been several times that he's been working in his office and hears organ music. Goes out to look and it stops."

Sam drops down into the chair across from Dean, "The choir tell you anything besides their phone numbers?"

"Yea I got some out of a few. Lots of random breezes, weird feedback in the speakers when they aren't plugged in, and one saw an apparition."

Sam's eyebrows raise, "Like a full apparition or just some haze?"

"Full. Guy said it was sitting at the organ while they sang then when he went to investigate it disappeared and reappeared up in the rafters."

"Huh," Sam saiys, looking puzzled but not too concerned, "Has it said anything or done anything to anyone?"

"Nope, just sat around and made music I guess."

Sam gives his little barely there laugh he does when something amuses him, "Then are you sure this is even our thing? I mean, why are we investigating this?" Sam moves over to lay back on his bed, yawning.

"I don't know man, just caught my eye is all. Worth checking out though, things have been pretty quiet. You have something better to do?"

"No no, just not sure why you had us drive all this way for some damn music ghost," Sam ducks at the shoe Dean throws at him, then chuckles and turns off his light for bed. He's been far too bitchy for Dean's comfort lately, always whining about something or another and needing way too much distracting.

Dean sits up a while longer checking local reports and brooding. Maybe this really wasn't their sort of thing, wasn't even sure why he thought this was a case. Maybe Sam  _is_  right for once and not just being bratty. But they're here, might as well look into it.

When he falls asleep a few hours later he dreams again, everything is just as real as the last one.

_This time he's running through the field of yellow flowers, but the sky has darkened, as though as storm is brewing behind him. His feet are sinking slightly into the soft soil with each step. There is a tree in the distance on that hill he saw last time. He runs for hours, never feeling out of breath or energy, yet no matter how much ground he covers it never gets closer._

_Organ music plays in his head all the while._


	2. Chapter 2

Dean shot up in bed, lashing out with the knife he kept in his hand at night. That dream hadn't been a nightmare, so what the hell was he doing getting freaked out. He let out the breath he was holding and let his arm drop, the knife thudding into the comforter. His heart felt like it was trying to run out of his chest while the rest of his insides were slowly sliding down into the floor. The fuck was wrong with him?

He laid back down, a headache beginning to blossom behind his eyes. He glances over to check that Sam was still asleep, and thankfully the overgrown kid is snoring away. With hands that are absolutely  _not_  trembling he fumbles the knife back up to rest under his pillow.

Nightmares are nothing new to him, Hell left its mark permanently seared into his retinas, but that dream hadn't even been creepy let alone frightening. And of course this just  _had_  to happen on a night he could get plenty of sleep. Never when he could afford to be wide awake all night. His heart is still hammering away. That can't be healthy.

As he becomes more aware he notices the state he's in beyond his thoughts. God there's nothing more disgusting than waking up in a puddle of your own sweat. With a soft sigh he gets up and shuffles into the bathroom, pulling his sweat soaked undershirt off along the way. It joins the rest of his things piled onto his duffel bag. Keeping the lights off so he won't wake Sam, he grabs a washcloth, runs cold water over it and begins wiping down his chest, neck, and face.

As he dries off with one of the scratchy nonabsorbent motel towels he feels the first traces of adrenaline that signal a panic attack. God not tonight, he can't be bothered to deal with anxiety when he should be sleeping. He'd put it all behind him a while ago, now it was just cold hard focus. Sammy needs him to be stable.

It took less than a second to decide on the solution, and another 15 to dart back towards his duffel. He pulls out his favorite talisman against shit like this, a small bottle of Jack Daniels, and takes a few swigs. Wow that sting and bite is good at distracting. Hard to start thinking irrational thoughts when his eyes were watering from fighting the urge to cough. And a good thing Sam's out, won't have to deal with his bitch face or another lecture on alcoholism. He takes another mouthful before stashing the bottle away, the burn settling into a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

Just gotta keep thinking about something neutral til the whiskey does its magic and lulls him back to sleep. Baby, yea, that's a good topic. Dean starts mentally going over the list of repairs she needs while crawling back in the bed, indulging himself in the urge to curl up like he did when he was younger. He feels the adrenaline buzz begin to fade, heart settling.

Tucking his knees up to his chest, hand wrapping around the end of the knife, mind thinking about brake pads, and belly full of warmth Dean drifts off back to sleep. Peaceful this time, not full of the emotions he refuses to feel.

* * *

They decide to check out the church for themselves the next morning. The congregation is fairly small, so the building is empty when they arrive, and thankfully the priest is out on visits. Dean's not sure how he'd handle watching the creep hit on Sam.

The moment he walks into the church a sense of dread fills his mind. It's just a standard Protestant church, pretty stained glass windows lining the long hall and rows of wooden pews. The raised section at the end has room for a podium and some seating. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A full EMF sweep reveals nothing, but just to be sure Dean insists on a second pass. The feeling of dread just keeps eating away at the back of his mind. It's almost as though something will pop up if he just turns the right corner or looks at a certain spot. Ignoring Sam's constant grumbles he starts over from the beginning.

They are just clearing through the side of the main chapel when Sam's patience finally wears thin. "Dean there is  _nothing_  here! I'm going back out to the car, if you want to keep wandering around be my guest." He huffs away, muttering to himself.

"Oh come on Sammy don't be such a little bitch!" Sam just keeps walking, shaking his head.

Dean watches him go, slightly annoyed, but keeps doing his sweep, muttering under his breath. He continues to register nothing though, just silence from the reader, so a haunting is definitely ruled out. But what else could possibly have these signs and not be a ghost? Maybe there's something back in dad's journal, and he'll have Sam call Bobby and discuss it with him. At least it'll keep the kid busy and off Dean's back for a while.

As he moves through the main worship chapel towards the exit he feels a chill run up his spine. He scrambles to grab the EMF reader and begins waving it about the area, hoping to finally catch the spirit. But again, there's nothing. Not even a small blip.

Yep he's officially lost it. Took long enough but looks like his mind is cracking. Awesome. It was too much to hope that he'd come out of Hell with his mind unscathed. At least he's not manic. Just convinced that there are signs where there is nothing. Totally healthy. By now it's nearly dinner time, so he figures he might as well join Sam at the car.

When he steps out of the front door into the fading sunlight he swears he hears a soft sound from behind, almost as though someone was whispering. He turns to look, but again, nothing there. Just as the door clicks shut his heart drops with no warning or cause, that horrible sinking feeling he gets when something triggers an anxiety attack. But with the earlier confusion, he knows he must just be imagining it. One more thing to add to the growing list of 'let's not tell Sam about this and keep pushing forward'.

Sam waves over at him from where he's leaning against the Impala, an annoyed edge to the way he pulls open the passenger door. "Took you long enough, now come on I'm getting hungry."

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch, I'm coming" he yells over, the feeling slowly fading, only to be replaced by the usual emptiness.

* * *

Dean finds himself alone once again in a seedy motel.

They had grabbed some dinner at a bar in town, discussing the case. Or at least Dean had discussed it. Sam had half listened, focusing more on surveying the other patrons. Dean had left him there, talking up a pretty little redhead with a dumb smile on his face.

He certainly doesn't feel bad about having left Sam, he knows that letting him have his nights of distraction make him well rested and ready to go the next day, and he needs him on board for this. Because Dean is very sure that there is something going on at that church and nothing Sam says will convince him otherwise.

Plus, the headache he's been nursing all day has steadily gotten worse, and he could use some quiet time. With just the little bed light on he lays back against some propped up pillows to browse through John's journal for ideas, bottle of whiskey next to his hip. He scans through pages, rereading some of the notes here and there between sips. He's just made it to a page about some Greek god or another when he admits defeat to the haze building in his mind. The alcohol has done it's job and numbed out the headache with the added benefit of numbing that weird emptiness he's been feeling. He snaps the book closed and throws it on the nightstand, immediately followed by the bottle.

Getting up unsteadily he saunters to the bathroom, humming along the way, and turns on the shower. While he waits for it to warm up he goes back and takes another long pull of whiskey. Better safe than sorry when it comes to keeping that headache at bay.

Drunken showers are one of his favorite things, especially without a bratty little brother complaining about how long he takes or how loud he sings while foaming up shampoo. The water is the perfect temperature, and for once there's enough room for him to fit in the stall. Even the water pressure isn't too bad. Maybe he'll take the time and shave while he's at it, no need to hurry and get out for Sammy. He pulls back the curtain in what he thinks is a dramatic move in time with the song he's belting out, but in reality nearly loses his balance. Water drips onto the floor as he reaches for his bathroom kit, fumbling through the little bag for his razor.

A few minutes and only two shaving cuts later he's finished, walking into the other room naked and feeling brazen for it. He's Dean fucking Winchester and he  _enjoys_  his alone time, damn it. Alone isn't bad at all, he's not sure why he makes all the fuss over it. Another mouthful of whiskey and he's sure he was overreacting with this case earlier, Sam is right, there's nothing here for them.

Speaking of Sam, he left his laptop behind. A dark smirk spreads across Dean's face as he goes over to sit at the little table and pull up one of his favorite porn sites. There is no way that he'll let this fantastic evening go by without having some good private time to himself, he can even be naked and take his time, which makes it that much better.

Hmm what's he feeling in the mood for tonight? A little light bondage? No, maybe something more vanilla, something he can just enjoy. Lesbians with toys, always a classic option.

Subject decided he opens up a few videos til finding one that really suits his fancy. He spends a good half hour pleasuring himself, slow building and even pressing against that stretch of skin behind his balls right at the end. It's stupid but he always saves that for times when he has lots of private time. Makes it seem special or something, which yea is kinda stupid.

Boneless and satisfied he quickly cleans up before burrowing into his bed, flicking the light off after a few attempts to locate the switch. The whiskey is still swimming nicely in his head, making that blissed out and sleepy feeling that much more powerful. It only takes a few minutes for him to slide off into sleep.

* * *

_It's dusk in the old church, the light filtering in from the stained glass is warming the wooden pew where he sits and drenches him in mottled colors. He feels good sitting there, better than he has since getting topside. That emptiness is gone, his heart beating comfortably inside a chest that doesn't feel hollow for once. He watches the dust float down through the light for a bit._

_You know, for a church this place is pretty nice. It's quiet, there's no one here, he finds himself enjoying the alone time._

_Maybe once he wakes up he'll come back here, see if this feeling is something he can have while awake. Sam will complain about going back, but he'll just pull the big brother card and make him join._

_The door to the church opens back behind him, loud in the silence. He wants to turn around, but is frozen in place._

_"Sam?"_

_Footsteps start down the aisle, a leisurely stride and in no hurry. There's a long way to go from the back of the church where the front door is. His seat is only a few rows from the pulpit. Damn it why can't he move?_

_"Uhm, pastor?" No response, the footsteps are closer now. "Who's there?"_

_Still no response. His heart starts speeding up with anticipation, the rushing blood pounding in his ears and finger tips. His breathing becomes quick. He's ready for a fight._

_The footsteps stop just behind him. Dean strains his eyes to the side, hoping to get a glimpse of who is looming behind him but there's still no budging from his position. There's a change in air pressure that tells him the newcomer is leaning forward over his shoulder, the edge of a sleeve just barely visible in his peripheral vision._

_Then with a swift movement blue eyes come into his line of sight._

With a scream he snaps awake, flailing about gracelessly before seeing Sam next to the other bed, who has just dropped into a crouch, hands raised.

"Woah, Dean! Calm down, it's me, sorry didn't mean to wake you!" He keeps his hands up, gesturing with them slightly for Dean to calm down.

"The hell're you doin'?" Dean says, words slurring with sleep and drink. He glances at the clock, only an hour since he got in bed, whiskey is definitely still kicking.

"I tripped over the end of the bed, sorry, was trying to be quiet. Just go back to sleep."

He settles back down into the covers, heart slowing into a nice steady pace. Sam grabs the laptop from the table then got in his bed. Not half a minute later he gives an annoyed groan, drawing Dean's attention from where he was dozing back off. "Seriously dude? Could you not have closed out of the window? I don't need to see what you were up to tonight." His tone is far too disapproving for Dean's taste.

"Didn't realize you were such a prude. Jus' close it and lemme sleep dammit," he snaps, turning over to put his back to the laptop light.

He makes a point to ignore the empty feeling that had come back into him upon waking and drifts back asleep, sluggishly thinking that he might need to check the church out again after all.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Dean notices when he wakes up is a dull throbbing headache. The second thing is the sound of laptop keys tapping. With a groan he rolls over towards the sound, keeping his eyes shut against the light. He cracks them open and looks at the clock, 9 am, not too late, he can get in another hour or so. He sighs and settles back down.

"Don't even think about it Dean, we need to get going and I already let you sleep in."

Another groan. Why the hell does Sammy have to be such a morning person. Doesn't seem right to face the prospect of another day on Earth with so much pep in your step. "There better be coffee or I'm staying right where I am."

"On the nightstand."

Thank god for little miracles. Dean sits up and reaches for the cup, noticing too late that he had forgotten to get dressed after his shower the night before. He snaps the covers back over his lap, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Sam seems not to notice, staring at his laptop where he continues to type away.

"So uh, what's the plan for today? I think we need to keep looking into this." He asks, sipping on his coffee and praying for it to clear the mini-hangover he feels.

Sam stops typing for a second and glances over, annoyance all over his face. "You're still going on about that? Dean we checked it out, it's not our thing. And I just found something that  _is_ , out in Kentucky, looks like an  _actual_  ghost causing  _actual_  problems."

"I know I know but it just feels weird to me, ok?" Sam huffs and turns back to whatever he's working on. There's no reason for him to be this moody, usually Sam's pretty easy going when it comes to what Dean wants to do. Happy to go along and back up his big brother. Sure there's some complaining, and a little whining if he's in a really bad mood, but he rarely outright challenges Dean like this. He saves that for the bigger things, like the time he decided he  _had_  to know what John's job really was, or where Dean was sneaking off to when he got his first girlfriend. And of course when he knew how poorly Dean had dealt with dad dying and forced him to get it out. It was the big things he'd pester Dean about, not something stupid like this.

Dean begrudgingly gets up and hurries to grab some clothes.

"Dude, seriously!? I don't care what you do when I'm not here but  _please_  try to remember pants. That's all I ask," Sam stares intently at the computer screen, giving his brother time to get decent before he raises his eyes and gives him as much of a bitch face as possible.

"Oh grow up Samantha, at least the view is nice" Dean snaps, trying to hide his embarrassment behind some sarcasm and false arrogance. Sam just makes a disgusted sound and closes the laptop.

"I'll meet you in the car, try not to take too long primping," Sam says, heading towards the door.

Dean's witty retort dies on his tongue as the door closes. He gives a sigh and hurries to brush his teeth and get dressed.

* * *

"Seriously Dean, just stop being such an ass about it and admit you were wrong about this!"

"Sam! There's nothing to admit because guess what, I'm not wrong!"

"Yea, actually, you are! There is not one single bit of evidence we've seen that supports a haunting or anything else. Just a bunch of religious nuts seeing things that aren't there, and I bet there are real reasons why. I know it's hard for you to be wrong about anything but-"

Dean slams on the brakes a bit harder than he meant to and throws open the door to the Impala. "You know what, I think you need some time to think. Why don't you go grab us some breakfast while I do  _our_  job and search the place."

Sam glares at him through the windshield, mouth screwed up in displeasure, but slides over to the drivers seat. He takes a few deep breaths before leaning out of the window to yell at Dean's back where he's walking toward the church. "Why don't  _you_  take time to think too. You're acting like dad, and we both know I don't mean that in a good way." He rolls up the window and backs out of the parking lot before Dean can say anything so he settles for a middle finger shoved toward the car as he pushes into the church.

Stupid ass little brothers, sometimes he swears whatever god there is made Sammy so different from the other men of the family just to spite them all. Always rebelling against any authority he's shown, it's downright maddening. Dean mutters to himself under his breath, shoving his hands in his jeans and starting towards the pulpit.

That queer feeling rises in him suddenly, like hot water is flowing into his chest, and he immediately realizes that he forgot to get any equipment out of the car. He gives a groan of annoyance, at himself for being in too much of a hurry to get away and at Sam for pissing him off and making him forget to do the job right. He should be trying to get a read on what's causing the change in...what? Air pressure? Magnetic fields? Sammy would know.

He keeps shuffling towards the front of the church then stops to sit in a pew a few rows back. It's about the same place as he was in during that dream, in fact, even the dust floating in the morning sun is the same. Except that's a difference, the dream had evening sunlight from the opposite windows. He glances around, already getting antsy from being alone and having no distractions.

Maybe Sam was right, he is being kind of stubborn about this, although it's no excuse for how out of line Sam is. If he was moody at the motel then it's nothing compared to how argumentative he was in the car. Another example to add to his argument that Sam has PMS, which is worse since Dean got back from the vacation in the fiery lake. But as much of a point as Sam has that he's being stubborn he is most certainly  _not_  acting like John. Sam may not have enjoyed having him as a father, but with Dean he had always been a role model. Not the most perfect one of course, but hey, the man was human after all. He'd taught Dean all about hunting, given him manageable tasks, instilled in him a sense of responsibility to family and those who need help. Not bad traits to have, if you take away the near alcoholism and anti-social behaviors that went along with it. And those would have developed after he got out of Hell anyways- nope, not thinking about that place and time. Didn't happen.

God this is depressing. And being here in the church that he had a creepy dream about isn't helping at all. Dean huffs a little and slumps down to rest his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. What the hell is happening with him. It's just ridiculous how depressed he is, and Sam must be noticing with how cranky he's been.

 _Plink_.

Deans heart drops into the wooden floor as a shot of adrenaline runs icy into his veins. What the fuck was that? That sounded like a fucking organ note. Which is impossible because there are no ghosts and  _of cours_ e Dean doesn't have any equipment with him, only a gun. Lot of good bullets will do him against a ghost.

He stands slowly, eyes trained on the organ's keyboard that sits several pews in front of him next to the raised stage. The pipes are behind the pulpit, shining golden in the morning sun. He takes a few steps to the left to place him in the aisle and stalks forward, breathing through his mouth to keep his breaths silent. There's no disturbance in the air, and there had only been the one note. Maybe he's already startled the spirit away, or it used all it's energy making that one sound. Maybe it's another episode of him just losing his mind, which seems to be happening frequently in this building.

"You better like what I picked because I'm not getting you- Dean, what are you doing?"

Dean spins, probably looking half crazed out of his mind, if the weirded out face Sam has is anything to go by. But he catches sight of the McDonald's bag and quickly composes himself.

"I forgot to bring in the EMF but Sam I swear to you that there is something in here. Something played the organ a few seconds ago." He starts up the aisle, "We are  _absolutely_  doing another sweep through here, but first, it's breakfast time."

He brushes past Sam out into the parking lot, feeling both better and worse as soon as he leaves the building. "You...what? Seriously?" Sam follows him back to where the Impala is parked. They eat their gloriously greasy breakfast while Dean gives a short run down of what happened and just how creepy he thinks the church is. The food settles his nerves down, letting him think a little more clearly.

"Huh, well, it looks like  _something_ is happening here. I don't know if we need to do anything about it but-"

"I'm sorry Sammy, one more time? It looks like, what?" Dean mockingly cups his hand to his ear.

Sam rolls his eyes, "You were right, there's something here, ok? Frikken five year old," he mumbles the last bit into his hash brown.

"Exactly! I was right and you were wrong. Sorry Sammy, it's just the way the world is," Dean beams, taking childish glee in winning over his brother.

* * *

Suburbs are the modern world's worst invention. The sameness, the fake happy Stepford crap, the scheduled regularity. It's creepier than half the shit they deal with on a regular basis. But, at least it makes getting information out of people easy. Put on a nice smile, a suit, wave a badge, they open up like a bar hookers legs. The plain brown stone house they roll up to has the exact same style as all the others they've passed in this neighborhood. Only real difference is the bright green front door and clashing red flowers in a box beside it. At least there's a massive tree in the front yard, would be great for climbing. And yea, so maybe Dean is an overgrown five year old, but there's nothing wrong with appreciating a good climbing tree.

Mrs. Corder answers a few moments after they ring the front door, aliases in place and ready to weasel information out of her. True to Stepford form she's dressed fashionably yet modestly, nice fitting jeans with a pretty blue sweater that makes her white blonde hair seem almost yellow. Her smile gets brighter when she takes them in, eyes lighting up when they turn to Sam. "Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Mrs. Corder? I'm Sam Wood, this is my cousin Dean Lynne. We're sorry to bother you, but we're new to the area. Pastor Mark sent us, we're interested in learning more about the Bible study you lead."

"Oh, well yes of course, please come in! I'm glad he sent you over, we're always happy to grow our little group!" She pulls the door open wide, allowing them to step in. At her insistence they leave their shoes at the door and follow her down the hall to the living room that opens into the kitchen.

She preens the entire way to the seats in the living room, fluffing her hair a little, subtly rearranging her shirt to lay flatter, basically putting on a show for them. Dean just rolls his eyes and settles onto one end of the couch. Better for Sam to handle this one, and thankfully Sam takes lead doing just that.

"So, Mrs. Corder, we were-"

"Oh please, call me Ann!"

"Ok, Ann, um, what could you tell us about the group? We wanted to make sure that it'll be a good fit."

She starts in on a long discussion with Sam about the purpose of their study group, constantly batting her eyes and smiling far more than necessary. At least she hasn't gone full creep yet. Dean tries to remain positive looking, but it's getting harder to fake a smile and besides she isn't paying attention to him anyways. Completely bored, he asks her for directions to the bathroom, and leaves Sam to deal with things. All that coffee in the morning was running straight past his stomach and into his bladder.

He goes back into the hall they'd first entered and quickly uses the bathroom. Aching pressure relieved he takes his time going back into the living room. Nothing wrong with Sammy having more time to butter her up, plus some snooping around could go a long way.

There are dozens of pictures on the wall opposite the bathroom, doesn't even require sneaking around to find, which makes Dean feel a little better about it. Cute family, two kids and a rather normal looking husband. The pictures go from one kid being a baby (a girl), then the second kid coming along (another girl), and continuing through them growing up and all their family vacations. The last pictures must be the most recent, since Ann looks about the same in these. The only difference is the oldest girl is clearly undergoing some harsh treatments, her head covered in a pretty floral scarf where her blonde hair had been in the other pictures. Cancer is such a bitch like that, hitting at random regardless of age.

Dean has barely a few seconds to feel bad for the poor kid before someone comes bursting in through the front door. Scratch that, two blonde someones, and they're little too. They barely pause to notice him as they breeze past and run into the living room.

Oh yea, right, makes sense that the kids in the pictures would actually live here. Dean rolls his eyes at himself. Almost ruined the whole thing pulling a knife on two little girls. Speaking of which, wasn't the older one supposed to be sick?

They've gathered behind where their mom is sitting, the youngest looking shyly at Sam while the older and  _non-bald_  one giggles and whispers to her sister. Ann turns and tells them to get rid of their school things and go get some playing in before dinner later.

Dean comes to sit back down next to Sam as they file out of the room, giggling and running up the stairs.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce you, they're in one of their playful moods today. Those are my two girls, Grace and Leah." Ann says, looking slightly uncomfortable. Probably having the reminder of her family makes all the flirting with Sam seem inappropriate. Which yes, Dean would like to point out, it was.

"I hate to ask ma'am, but I was looking at your pictures out there, and Grace seems a lot healthier than she did in some of them. Treatment go well?" Dean says, ignoring the confused look Sam gives him.

Ann seems surprised at the question. "Well no not really, it was actually a miracle that she's better. About a year ago she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor, and they immediately started her on rounds of chemo. At best we could hope that it wouldn't grow further or spread," she takes a moment to breathe and swallow at the painful memory, "They'd only given her a few years at best, and we tried to make the most of what we could. That was around the time we started attending church again, it was a comfort to have the support."

"If it was inoperable, then how is she doing better?" Sam's pulling out his best concerned and open puppy dog face. Which may or may not be fake, Dean can't really tell.

Ann brightens, "It was truly a miracle, which I know sounds cliche, but honestly we have no other way of describing it. About five months ago she started feeling healthier, had more energy and hope. We thought it had something to do with the chemo working, but during her next check up they couldn't find a trace of the tumor. Just like that, gone! It was just.." she wipes a tear away as she smiles, "It was more than we could have dreamed of. We'd been ready to say goodbye, but by the grace of God we have our daughter back. All those months of praying that they'd overlooked a treatment or, just, anything! It's what prompted me to start up this Bible study, God provides so much for those who seek."

Sam reaches forward to put a hand on her arm, smiling in a sickeningly joyful way, "That's amazing Ann. God truly is great. What an amazing story of faith."

Ann wipes away a few more tears, giving him a grateful smile back. Dean might actually vomit if this gets anymore sappy. "It wasn't just our family, there are so many in the congregation who have experienced rewards for their faith."

That piques his interest right back into the conversation, "Oh really? What kind of rewards exactly?"

More than happy to share stories of faith, Ann gives them several accounts of families hit by various hardships that had 'miraculously' received help in their time of need. One couple had been barren for years and had begun looking into adoption, when they suddenly conceived. Another family had lost their home and possessions in a fire, only to find out a week later that an anonymous benefactor had given them enough money to start over. And just the week before the son of a woman in Ann's study had been involved in a bombing while on duty in Iraq. He was the sole survivor, not a scratch on him.

As they listen to the stories they ask questions to try and help narrow down what they're dealing with. When did these 'miracles' happen? Did anyone feel anything, like a presence? Was other weird phenomena happening? But according to Ann, everything is normal. Just honest deserving people having a string of good luck.

As they take their leave, Sam gets pensive, his eyes narrowed a little in thought with a small wrinkle between his brows. Dean knows his brooding pensive face, and leaves him to his thoughts, driving them to the diner in town to talk things over. He has theories of his own running through his mind a mile a minute. The entire circumstances remind him immediately of the reaper that had been chained to the creepy priest guy Sam took him to a few years ago. Or was it bound to the wife? Yea, it was the wife. Religious types always have weird dark shit circulating through their ranks, makes sense that someone here would fall into the same thing. Could even be this Ann lady, though she seemed a little too naive for binding a reaper to her bidding.

They get to the diner and take seats towards the back. Sam thinks and jots down notes while Dean orders and they wait for their food. They're half way through their fries before Sam looks up and starts in on his thoughts.

"Ok so this doesn't make  _any_  sense Dean. It sounds exactly like that bound reaper we saw a few years ago, as far as these miracles go. I mean, this stuff can't all be coincidences. That little girl's cancer...I mean, that just doesn't happen naturally," He takes a moment to shovel in a few more bites of his burger, "Except there's no weird deaths happening around town or even outside of the area, plus it's not just medical things that are being changed."

"Yea that's a good point, I was thinking the same thing. But what else could this even be? Do the timelines match up?"

"That's the thing, they do. None of this kind of stuff was happening before they started having the weird haunting things. Maybe it's just a really caring spirit?"

Dean scoffs. Like they'd get the luck to find a  _friendly_  ghost for once. Nope, they always got the weirdest shit. "Sam that makes no sense. Why don't we just call Bobby tomorrow and maybe he'll have something stashed away about this." They go back to their meals for a few minutes, mulling over the possibilities.

_Crash._

Dean jumps, startled by the sudden thunder. Sam just looks up and gives him a barely suppressed giggle. "Scaredy cat."

"Shut it bitch. Not my fault I hate storms." Dean mutters, scarfing down the rest of his meal to distract himself from the quickly building storm outside. They hadn't noticed how dark the clouds had gotten, too absorbed in the case to pay attention. But Dean was noticing now, for sure.  _Fuck_ he hates storms. Always makes his moods darker and the flashes remind him too much of the weird lightening in Hell. That stuff had been the product of nightmares, randomly going off and searing straight through your spine. Just hearing the thunder outside has him flinching with the memories.

"Let's just get out of here and see what's on TV, I think we deserve a relaxing night for a change."

Sam laughs, licking the fry salt off his fingers. "Haven't we had plenty of those recently? I'm eager to get out of here, so I'm calling Bobby when we get back. You do...whatever it is you do when you relax. But  _clothes_  this time, ok?"

Dean isn't paying attention to him at this point, glaring nervously out at the clouds that are gathering closer and the small sporadic lights in the distance. With a roll of his eyes Sam gets up to go pay, telling Dean to go wait in the car before he knifes someone on accident. Which is certainly a possibility, since he has a death grip on the pocketknife in his jeans.

* * *

They get back to the motel in record time, nearly running through two red lights on the way. Sam says nothing, but his face shows that he sees Dean's discomfort. The rain has started pouring and rolling down the windshield as Dean sits in the Impala, wanting to get inside but hoping there will be a lull in the storm to allow the run. Sam has no such reservations and piles out, sprinting to their room and slamming the door behind him.

Dean hums songs to himself as he waits, eyes closed and taking comfort in the leathery smell of the car, hoping that the thunder just  _goes away_  sometime soon. The nervous feeling in him isn't helping that deep ache that's followed him for months. If he was one for those sorts of things he'd want to be held, but no, Dean Winchester is not a pussy. He doesn't do scared cuddling, in fact, he isn't scared. He's just relaxing, being soothed by the rain.

_He opens his eyes, taking in the downpour of rain and flashes of lightening. There's a thunderclap directly above him, rumbling deep into his bones, making him feel like a tiny earthquake shattered the ground below him._

_That's weird, the Impala is gone. He's out in the rain, standing in a parking lot, but also oddly dry. Oh shit this can't be real. Now he's not only crazy but he's hallucinating too, awesome. At least he knows where this is, that stupid church with that stupid ghost in this stupid town. Another flash of lightening illuminates the building, making the usually colorful stained glass monotone._

_The empty pit in his chest opens wide during the next roll of thunder. It feels like someone has reached in with a shovel and scooped out something important, something that should be there, he just can't place what it is. He tries to walk across the lot, hoping to get under the cover of the doorway on the church, but finds he cannot move._

_Another burst of thunder and lightening. Something feels wrong. Or at least, more wrong. If only he could get_ inside _the church and hide out for the rest of the storm. He can feel something coming, good or bad he doesn't know._

_Just then another rumble starts, building slowly with that grating rock sound thunder gets when it's directly above you. He can feel it reverberating in his bones, making the joints feel tight with the electricity in the air. A moment before the lightening hits the hair on his body stands up, a sharp prickle running down his spine. The lightening hits the top point of the church, a cross, just as the doors fling open, spilling light into the night._

_A figure is blocking out some of the light, but with all of the backlighting Dean can't make out who they are or what they look like. The shadow they cast looks almost like they're wearing a dress? With pants? No, that's a long coat. And if the short hair means anything then it's a man. And he's yelling Dean's name out into the storm, voice blending in with the next rumble of thunder._

Dean yells back, but too late notices that he's yelling at the windshield. Holy hell that was a genuine goddamn hallucination but it was so  _real._  His heart is pounding, adrenaline racing into the tips of his fingers and making them shake as he punches out a text to Sam, " _Going to church. Will explain. Stay where you are."_

Pedal slammed to the floorboards he takes off across town to the church. Fortunately, with the storm going on there is no traffic. In his haste and excitement he forgets about the storm, focused entirely on making it there to figure out what the hell is going on and why these dream/hallucinations are happening. There has to be a connection, there just has to be. He didn't have this crap going on before he found the case. Sure he had nightmares of Hell that were real enough to leave him screaming and drenched in sweat, Sam holding him to a mattress with his full weight to keep him from hurting himself. But those were still less real than these. He can  _feel_ and  _smell_  and  _remember_  them all perfectly.

It only takes 5 minutes to reach the church parking lot. He throws open the door to get out, ignoring the rain as he takes off for the church door.

Thunder roars around him as he jogs in, but he's lost the fear for it. Right now there is one thing on his mind, and that's this weird pull to the church, almost as though a rubber band is reeling him in to snap up against the building.

The front doors are soaked with rain water, and it doesn't look like there are lights on inside. But with all his weight thrown into pulling both doors glide open, blessedly unlocked.

The hall inside is dark, no lights to help him see, but a moment later the thunder bursts through the sky again, lightening striking nearby. And in the brief second of light he sees a man at the organ on the far side of the church who whips his head around and stares straight at him. The moment the light dissipates he hears a gravely voice cut through the darkness.

"Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Holy hell the ghost is speaking to him. The one from that hallucination or some crap and it's actually  _here_. Dean stares straight at the point where he had seen the ghost, but in the darkness he can see nothing. "Look man, you need to work with me here. You're dead and-" thunder crashes again, starling Dean for a moment, "and we're going to get you to wherever you need to go. This doesn't have to be a fight."

It may be a Sam move but talking to the thing seems like the logical approach right now. Every report says it's ambivalent, right? It may not even  _be_  a ghost, what with all the weird miracle crap going on.

"I'm not a spirit, Dean."

It's moved closer. That was not spoken from the other end of the hall, sounded more like halfway. And now Dean can pick out the footsteps over the sound of rain pummeling the ceiling and windows. At least he wants to believe it's just the rain making that sound and not his heart. He quickly takes stock of what weapons he has on him. No gun, silver knife in his pocket, no salt, dammit he should have come in prepared. John would have chewed him out for being so careless if he was here. Better keep the thing talking and avoid a fight then.

Another flash of lightening, the spirit has stopped at the last row of pews, a confused expression on his face. It's definitely the figure from his dream vision thing, the coat matches. Dean doesn't have time to study much else, glancing around for some iron before the light disappears again. Ah ha! Cast iron stand for the church bulletins on his right. He's just gotta get to it.

"Ok so if you're not a spirit then what are you? Do you think you're still alive or something?" Gotta keep it talking, stall while he inches over towards where he saw the stand.

"Yes of course I'm alive."

"Right. Well if you're alive then how come you're creeping around in a church in the dark?" Just a few more steps and the stand will be within grabbing distance.

"You do realize that you are in this church as well. In the dark."

Got it! He grabs the pole of the stand, knocking the papers off it as he swings towards where he last heard the spirits voice coming from. It connects with something solid and holds. A cadence of  _fuckfuckfuck_ begins running on a loop in Dean's head. This is  _not_  going according to plan.

Lightening strikes again, and he nearly pees his pants. The spirit, well not a spirit at this point, is holding onto the end of the pole, disbelief and annoyance all over his face. He gives a big sigh, and Dean swears he rolled his eyes but the light cut out again. They're thrown back into the shadows, staring off without seeing. "Dean, this is nonsense."

"Who or what are you and how do you know my name?"

"Can you let go of the stand first? I assure you, it is unnecessary."

"Not a chance, now answer me!"

Another sigh comes through, overlapping with the rolling thunder. "This would be much easier if you were less combative." The grip on the stand releases suddenly and Dean nearly drops the damn thing from the sudden lack of support. He lowers it to his side, ready to strike out again if he needs to. Not that the iron apparently does any good, but having something to swing is a comfort.

"I will answer your questions, but first," a light hanging directly above them flickers on just as a finger snap rings out. Dean squints a little at the sudden change and takes a step back, getting out of range of whatever this thing is. He runs through lists in his head quickly, scratching off every supernatural being that he can think of. This is nothing he's seen before and apparently it can manipulate things, if the light is anything to go by. He needs to be ready for whatever it throws at him.

"In order, I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. And there is not an angel in Heaven or on Earth that does not know your name," he says with a scratchy deep voice that nearly matches the rumble of thunder outside.

What. The. Fuck. Dean's brain takes a leave of absence as he lets out a nervous little laugh, which was  _not_  a giggle. Angels? What's next? Cupid? Toy Story is real?

"Why are you laughing Dean? I am completely serious," Castiel's eyes crinkle a little and he turns his head slightly, eyeing Dean in what looks like suspicious annoyance.

Dean's sure he looks absolutely ridiculous, staring wide eyed and trying hard not to laugh at the next thought he has. The laughter wins out and he lets out another choked off sound of amusement.

"What is so funny?" Castiel has now moved from suspicious to self-conscious, and lets his freakishly intense gaze drop from Dean, looking around them as though he could find the answer on a wall.

"So you're...an angel. And you're hanging out like a total creep...in an old church. You've gotta see how weird that is man." Dean says, shoulders shaking in amusement. I mean, if this guy really  _is_  an angel, or whatever, it's pretty frikken hilarious. The church goers have been getting spooked over an  _angel_  living among them. If only they knew.

Castiel looks even more confused now, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in a way that reminds Dean of Sam. He speaks the next words slowly, almost as though he's waiting for a trap. "Yes, I have been posted here. I am free to go where I would like, but prefer to stay within the comfort of the church."

Dean's pretty sure that leave of absence his brain took has officially been extended into a resignation. This shit cannot be real, in any dimension or imagination. But hey, might as well play along until Sam wakes him up from whatever dream this is, because he's damn sure this is another of those bizzaro lucid dreams. He's probably still sitting in the Impala outside the motel. "Ok then, angel, how do I know you're for real. I see a lot of crazy in my line of work, and let me tell you, no one's ever seen or heard of  _angels_  being real. I'm honestly thinking that you're just some crazed pencil pusher that got a little too stressed during tax season." A shiver runs through him and he becomes aware of how soaked he got on the way in. Maybe it's not a dream after all.

With a small sigh the confusion leaves Castiel's face. He looks upward and almost seems to be contemplating or waiting on something. Dean takes the moment to give him a once over. This 'Castiel' is an interesting mix of things, that's for sure. The trench coat, and from the looks of it, suit underneath scream perfectionist office worker. The rumpled dark hair that has just a hint of curl looks like he just woke up. But the real kicker and confusing part is the strong jawline, slight shadow of scruff, and overall attractiveness.

Now, Dean is not gay. In fact, he's not even a little curious. However, when you screw around with girls as much as he does, you  _do_  notice when another male who could knock you out of the competition comes along. And whatever this guy is, he's certainly better looking than Dean feels a supernatural being should be.

At least he's the taller and broader one. Ha! Score for humanity.

With a barely expressed look of approval Castiel looks back down at him, coming out of his thinking. Oh and of course he has bright blue eyes to contrast the dark edgy hair. It's just not fair for a  _man_  to have those kind of looks. They belong on a girl. Kinda reminds Dean of that one yoga teacher a few years back. What was her name? Linda? No, it was Laura.

"I have been given permission to show you a small extension of my power in order to help you believe. Please, come with me." Castiel turns from Dean, walking the few feet towards the front doors.

Dean stands his ground, watching Castiel pull open the doors and look out into the stormy night. The wind that blows in whips his coat around and makes his hair even more unruly. He pauses for a moment before turning his head to Dean, silently waiting for him to follow.

"I'm good right where I am. You can show me whatever it is here or not show me at all." He's already soaked through, not really feeling like adding to the pneumonia he'll probably get by standing out in the rain. Plus, the storm is starting to make him uneasy again. Castiel's shoulders slump a small bit and he turns back to looking out at the parking lot. Dean can't see his face, but gets the feeling that his stubbornness is annoying the guy. He does inch over though, giving himself a better view outside from around Castiel. He's still out of arms reach, with the stand held at the ready beside him. Just in case.

As he watches, Castiel puts one hand out toward the sky. The clouds are dark shadows, shifting and swirling with the storm, occasional flashes of lightening brighten from far away. Dean can't see his face, but Castiel's shoulders have tensed up again as he stares out past his hand.

Dean's about had enough with all of this when he sees the clouds veering unnaturally. From a central point out beyond the church parking lot they begin retreating, rolling in on themselves and pushing outwards. A stretch of clear sky is exposed, like a drop of oil in the middle of a shifting lake. The clouds continue to part, letting through more and more sky, until Dean can glimpse stars shining above. It's bizarre, the thunderstorm continuing all around them, yet a calm refuge in the middle.

"Are you-? How?" Dean stumbles over the question. He sees crazy and unimaginable things on a regular basis, but has never seen nature manipulated around like this. This Castiel guy is like a kid in a sandbox, just shaping the sky how he sees fit.

With a sigh Castiel lowers his hand back to his side. The break in the clouds slowly crashes back together, seamlessly becoming part of the storm again. He addresses Dean over his shoulder, still facing out at the rain and wind. "That took far more power than I imagined. But I hope it was enough to persuade you of the sincerity of my word."

"Ok yea, you're one badass little dude. Still creeping in a church, but hey, whatever you gotta do." Just keep him talking. Just get information out and then go talk to Sammy. Maybe Bobby's hidden something about this from them, maybe he has contacts that can confirm or deny.

"I am not...creeping," he says, turning to Dean. He had to feel out that last word, as though it was foreign and unusual on his tongue. "I was stationed here on Earth and  _chose_  to stay in this church. I find it peaceful. It allows me to reflect in solitude as well as assist those who are faithful to my Father."

"Assist people. Right. You realize everyone here thinks you're a ghost."

"Yes Dean, you did make that abundantly clear." Castiel squints his eyes a little, looking vaguely annoyed at Dean's reaction.

Dean scowls back. This is feeling less like a dream now that the sky has stopped parting and the cold of his clothes is really starting to seep into his bones. Dreams would be comfortable, not chilly and awkward. But if this guy is for real, then that opens an entire library worth of problems. Angels have  _never_  been on the list of supernatural, of that Dean is certain.

Castiel is still looking at him as though he's the dumbest rock in the pile. The expression is starting to piss him off. "So if angels are real then how come no hunter's ever come across one of you before? And if you're 'assisting' people then how come only now and only here? You know there's an entire  _world_  that could use more help than some uppity people in Massachusetts!"

"We are very secretive, so of course the existence of angels has been mostly kept from common knowledge. But this is far from first time that one of my kind has walked among you." He softens his expression and turns to begin walking down the aisle as he talks. "Those of us who choose to do what we were created for have always been among you. I am sure you know of stories from your World Wars, Civil Wars, ship wrecks, discoveries, that seem improbable. We keep to the background, providing where we can, ensuring that humanity stays on track."

"Well you've done a  _great_  job," Dean says with more sarcasm than he intended.

Castiel turns at that, halfway up the aisle from where he'd been walking. He's moved beyond the reaches of the single light, Dean can't read his expression anymore, but his tone is absolute and full of certainty. "Policing the human race is not our job, Dean. You were given free will, you may do with it as you see fit. We just protect."

They face off for a long uncomfortable moment. Dean can feel the soul piercing stare the angel gives and feels exposed. Laid open before someone far more righteous and powerful than himself. It's a little like when John would chastise him as a child, but this is without the humiliation. He takes stock of his stance, squaring his shoulders and filling his chest under the scrutiny. Noticing the iron stand he still has in a death grip he sets it back in its place, stooping to pick up the scattered papers. And no, it isn't to avoid being stared at, it's a nice gesture.

"Well as long as you're not hurting people then I guess me and my brother can just pack up and leave you to it. He's certainly eager to get out of here." Dean sets the papers back on the stand and with nothing else to do reluctantly looks back at Castiel. Who is still unmoving in the shadows. Dean gives a light chuckle, "You know, I  _knew_  there was something off about this place. Guess it makes sense, what with the actual power of God or Morgan Freeman or whatever coming from you." Castiel still stares at him, and Dean's heart starts speeding up. Time to get out. He takes a few steps back towards the door. "Just stay out of my dreams or whatever that was earlier, and we're cool, ok?"

 _That_  breaks through the impression of a severe rock Castiel's doing, he slowly takes a few steps forwards. As he comes into the light Dean can see that his eyes have widened in surprise, though otherwise he looks unaffected. "What do you mean? Please explain."

"The weird hovering one yesterday? Yelling at me through the storm?" Dean tries, but Castiel just tilts his head. "You know what, never mind. Just...keep doing whatever it is you're doing. Play 'Kumbaya' on the organ or heal little girls, whatever floats your boat." Just a few more steps to the door and he can bolt out of this little awkward slice of hell.

"I don't have a boat, Dean."

Any other time he would be laughing at that, but this guy is serious, and the awkwardness hangs heavy between them. Dean stays straight faced. "Of course. Well it's been...nice."

Castiel stands where he is, actionless and awkward, though his eyes look saddened. "Yes Dean. It was, nice, meeting you."

Dean turns to go, grabbing onto a door handle and starting to leave when Castiel says one last thing. Though he says it quietly, as though it's a secret he doesn't want anyone else overhearing. "If you ever have need of me, just pray and I will come." A whisper of air follows, and when Dean turns to look back the church is empty once again.

* * *

The drive back to the motel feels like it takes seconds, even though Dean knows full well it's a five minute route. He's bursting with energy, mind running every which direction. It's like being drunk on whiskey, but with clear thoughts and better reflexes.

God what is he going to tell Sam? Kid's probably going to have some type of epiphany about this, as much as he likes to believe in Heaven. Dean wouldn't call his brother a Bible thumper by any means, but he's always held onto the belief that angels are watching over them.

He rolls up to the motel room they booked, noting that the light is still on, and hurries out of the Impala to the door. The weird high he'd been riding since 'the angel incident', as he's now calling it in his head, has started to fade. That pit in his chest is slowly coming back, but every time he thinks about the clouds being parted like some insane version of Moses and the Red Sea he feels that hole close up again. It's an unsettling fluttering feeling. He knocks three times on the door, "Sammy it's me, coming in." They've learned to announce themselves over the years when they come back unexpectedly. One too many guns pointed at heads.

Sam is sprawled out on his bed, head propped up on some pillows reading some sci-fi book, "Sam, you are absolutely not going to guess what just happened to me."

"You look like a drowned rat Dean. What, you get laid out in the rain or something?" Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his book, clearly uninterested.

"Not even close Sam, though that  _is_  going on my list of things to try." He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, giving Sam a self-satisfied grin. "I found out what's in that church."

That gets the attention he wanted, though still not the surprise he can't wait to see on Sam's face. "Ok, and what is it? Ghost or reaper?"

"Neither actually. It's sort of cliche now that I think about it, but hey, guy's gotta hide out where he's comfortable I guess."

Sam marks his page and puts the book down, giving Dean an annoyed huff, "Get on with it Dean."

"An angel of the frikken Lord" Dean says, smirking and eagerly waiting for the reaction he wants.

He's disappointed on that front though, Sam just groans and picks his book back up. "Sam I'm serious, there's an angel in there and he looks like he belongs in a cubicle somewhere but he did this miracle power thing and-"

"Dean!" Sam barks out, concern crossing his face to quickly be replaced by an overly calm expression. "Look I know you're stressed and want to think something's there, but let's try and be rational," he puts the book down again and pushes up til he's sitting facing Dean, "Angels have never been seen, and yea, it's a comfort to think we're being watched over, I get that. But Dean, they aren't real."

Not exactly the reaction Dean was going for, but at least he has Sam's attention now. "I'm not imagining this Sam, I'm telling you, this guy was for real. And since when do you not believe in angels and Heaven and all that crap?"

Sam looks away for a moment, taking a breath to steel himself, "Since you went to Hell."

That sentence hangs heavy in the air and neither of them look at the other. Dean refused to talk about Hell with Sam, has for the five months he's been back, and Sam stopped asking a while ago. They barely even bring it up, just refer to it as 'when Dean was gone'. It was only four months for Sam but he changed so much. Dean gets it, grief does that to a person, and for all Sammy knew he'd lost his brother in the worst way imaginable.

Sam starts back again, voice quieter this time, "I spent that last month you were here praying that someone would help us. That they'd work a miracle or something," he runs a hand through his hair, "and then for the first three months you were gone, I kept visiting churches, begging for the angels, or God, or anyone to fix it. But no one came Dean. No one answered. And if you're telling me that an angel has time to sit around a church healing random people but can't come  _save my brother from Hell,"_  his voice had risen in anger but quiets back again, "then no, that I can't believe in."

They stay silent for a moment, lost in thought as Dean takes in the information and tries to process it. He doesn't blame Sam at all for his conclusion, it's rational considering all that had happened. But he  _knows_  that he's wrong, and can't think of a way to show Sam that what had happened with what's-his-face, Castille? something with a 'Cas', had been completely and unavoidably  _real_.

Dean gets a jittery feeling when he remembers the last thing the angel had said to him as he left the church. He has no idea how to really pray or what good it would do, but maybe the guy would be willing to prove himself to Sam like he did to Dean earlier. Worth a shot at least.

He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see Sam's stupid face and starts, "Uhm dear Cast-..uh Cas-something, I know it's been all of about 10 minutes but you said I could pray to you and you'd come? My brother said he doesn't believe in angels so, if it's not too much trouble could you come prove him wrong?" He pops open one eye, taking in Sam's fiercest bitch face. Nothing happens.

"Maybe you pissed him off by forgetting his name, Dean," Sam says sarcastically, "Wouldn't be the first time you forget someone's name in the middle of-"

With a small displacement of air and the smell of cinnamon and rain water the angel appears at the end of their beds, looking unaffected at the sudden appearance.

"Hello again, Dean."

The uncomfortable awkwardness that settles in his chest is entirely worth Sam's face right now. Shock doesn't even begin to cover his expression, and it's almost movie comical how he slowly gets up, wide eyes never leaving the angel in front of him. Cas (Dean's decided the rest of the name isn't too important) regards Sam with something resembling open curiosity, as though he's never seen a human before. Though his eyes squint up in a moment, closing himself off.

"Cas, this is Sam. Sam, meet Cas. Told you I wasn't making it up."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Samuel, even if you are tainted."

Poor Sam is a man of extremes today, his entire being sagging with crestfallen puppy eyes. He flicks a glance at Dean, then is back to the angel. "It's...Sam. And, how do you know-?"

"Just as the angels know of Dean they also are aware of you. Your plight has not escaped our notice," he shifts slightly, glancing over at Dean, "And it's Castiel, in case you'd forgotten."

"Heh, kinda did, but I think I like Cas better. Easier to say." Dean says, leaning back on his hands to take in the incredibly awkward scene before him. "Plus you deserve it for being such a total dick to Sammy right out of the gate."

Castiel's brows furrow, "I was simply stating the truth. I bear no ill-will towards Sammy though."

"Yea, you don't get to call him that." Castiel looks deeply confused now, like he's never heard of nicknames and rules that go with them. And as clearly sheltered as he seems he probably hasn't. He gives a small nod of understanding though, and glances between the two of them, waiting for whatever comes next. Which now that Dean thinks about it, he doesn't know what that is either.

"Well uh, thanks for coming and clearing that up. Kinda hard to argue with real living proof, you know?" Dean says awkwardly, not wanting to throw the guy out when he just got here but not having any reason why he should stick around.

"This is so unfair." Sam mumbles. Dean looks back over at him and notes the dark expression slowly spreading over his brother's features. He's seen that look before, it always proceeds a bitch fit.

"I spent  _months_  praying to you guys. I prayed myself hoarse a few times, screaming for you to pay attention and  _help_  Dean. And I got ignored," Sam looms closer to Castiel, easily dwarfing the angel, "But Dean. Dean just prays once for you to show up and say 'hello' and you do it."

"Sam, it is more complicated than you seem to think. We were working to do what you asked, but it took time to implement plans. We couldn't just stop everything to come talk-"

"But you can now?! And what plans?" Sam is raising his voice now, getting that entitled angry tone to it that he always used against John.

"Come on Sam, it's not that big of a deal. Let the poor guy alone, I doubt he had anything to do with it," Dean tries. He gets up and puts a hand on Sam's shoulder, hoping to calm him down. Sam just shrugs it off, eyes never leaving Castiel's. Castiel just stares back, eyes narrowed in annoyance, starting to puff himself up slightly at Sam's imposing size.

"Yea actually, it is a big deal Dean! Answer me, what plans?"

Castiel huffs in irritation and glances up to search the ceiling again like he had in the church. A few seconds later he nods and looks back at Sam, fire in his blue eyes. "How exactly do you think Dean got out of Hell Sam? What could have possibly saved him where all of your attempts fell short?"

"Guys cut it out this is getting ridiculous," Dean tries again, but they were beyond listening to him.

Castiel continues, slowly moving forward into Sam's space and forcing him to take steps backwards, "Heaven has been aware of Dean for quite some time now, but we are not all-powerful. It took time to create plans and send in help. Hell is the absence of Heaven, sending in angels for one man took sacrifice, Sam, and you would do well to remember that."

Sam has put several feet between them now that Castiel has drawn himself to full height, bright thunderous rage in his eyes. The storm outside briefly cuts through the scene they make, lightening flashing over them from the window. In the flickering light Dean swears he can see shadows of wings on the back wall behind Castiel. There have been few moments where he felt truly awed in life, but this is certainly one of them. If they had any doubts as to what the being in front of them was, this little argument and display has cleared them up.

"Ok man, we get it. Now let's everyone calm the fuck down," Dean says, arms out to placate Castiel like he was a cornered animal. The fight goes out of the angel's eyes when he looks over at Dean, shadowy wings dissolving until he's back to looking like a stuffy office worker. Sam seems to have calmed down as well, though Dean can tell he isn't finished fighting this.

"Look, it's been a long day and I think we need some time to think. Why don't we talk more in the morning, ok?"

Sam just nods, making a non-committal grunt. Castiel gives a small incline of his head. "I will leave you two. Call me again when you are ready to talk." And with another flutter of air he was gone. Dean hopes he didn't go back to the church to sit in the dark all night. It's a sad thought.

"Dean, I cannot believe that-"

"Sam! You do not get to talk right now, do you understand?" Dean thunders back. "You pissed off the angel, dude could have killed us like bugs! So you can spend the night  _thinking_  instead of  _talking_  because that was not cool." He stalks over to the bathroom, making quick work of brushing his teeth, then flopping down in his bed. He's too pissed at Sam to humor him with a discussion of feelings and shit tonight. As much of a relief as it is to find out it was  _Heaven_ and  _angels_  that had gotten him out of Hell, it's far too much to process as well as listen to Sam ramble about it.

They'll deal with things in the morning. For now, Dean needs to rest and have some peace and quiet to decide how he feels about all this. Even though there's no way he's going to sleep.

* * *

_Awkward leave off point, I know, but there was no other good spot to break this entire section up._


	5. Chapter 5

He did not sleep much that night. And from the sounds of it neither did Sam. At first he'd made a few halted attempts at complaining about Dean's imposed silence rule, but had stopped after a few tries. Now he's just tossing and turning, occasionally sighing loudly. He just  _has_  to pout like a girl when Dean ignores him.

Though it's not difficult to ignore him, Dean has far more important things on his mind, like  _angels are real_  and  _Heaven got me out of Hell_  and  _hell yes I was right about the church_. It may be childish for him to feel a sense of pride that his instincts were right about the entire thing, but childish he will be if he wants. He had to stop being a big brother when he went to Hell, so he'll gloat now that he's topside.

Which brings his thoughts back to  _why_  he's topside. Real honest to God fucking  _angels_  are the  _coolest_  things ever!

I mean, that mini-tantrum that Cas had when Sam got him all pissed off? Possibly one of the greatest things Dean's ever seen. Dude has actual wings, that were pretty huge. At the moment Dean had been awed but mostly concerned with him and Sam getting through that confrontation alive. And now that he has the time to replay the entire thing? He's grinning ear to ear in the dark with still rather childish glee.

And that thought brings him back to the real issue at hand. Heaven knew he was going to Hell for Sam and it was Heaven that apparently got him out. Sam was furious that his prayers hadn't amounted to anything, that he didn't get a visit telling him they were working on it, and that it had taken so long to get Dean out. But as far as Dean's concerned? This whole thing was fucking  _awesome_  news. They had stopped theorizing and researching about how he got out after about a month. The rudimentary tests had been run, Dean was healthy as a frikken horse, and there was nothing else left to do but sit back and enjoy being alive. Not that he'd really been enjoying it, but that was beside the point. Knowing what got him out of Hell hadn't been all that important to him, he was just satisfied knowing that he'd made it out. But this new revelation was certainly making him interested in the hows and whys of it all.

What would Heaven want to break him out for? He's pretty sure that his lifestyle has never made him first in line when it came to getting through the pearly gates. Mary had made sure he went to Sunday school as a toddler, but once she was gone John let all that go by the wayside. His upbringing only got as religious as memorizing exorcisms and what types of relic affects what type of monster. Sam was the one who took religion to heart. The kid was never devout but at least felt guilty when he broke commandments. Dean never really noticed them, still doesn't in fact.

Though maybe he'll have to reconsider. This Castiel guy is certainly the real deal.

He spends his night drifting between these thoughts and bouts of dozing. Even Sammy's continuous pouting from the other bed isn't enough to keep him awake all night. A man's gotta sleep when he can. A wisdom Sam doesn't seem to share since he gets up and leaves for a few hours at one point. Coming back only to throw himself down on the bed with the laptop, huffing in annoyance while he researches who-knows-what.

By morning Dean's come down from the chipper mood he'd been in the night before. That deep pit in his chest hasn't returned, but he's not bouncing off the walls with excitement either. It may have something to do with the annoyed glares Sam keeps giving him while they go about their morning routines. Every attempt at starting the conversation is put off with an excuse of needing coffee before having heart to hearts.

He manages to continue avoiding Sam for part of the drive to get breakfast before the kid snaps.

"Dean you realize you're acting exactly like Dad? You two always kept shit from me and I have  _always_  hated it! We need to talk about this Dean, it's a pretty big frikken deal!" He's turned all the way to his side, glaring daggers into Dean that he can't avoid without leaving the car. Mid-highway bailing isn't in the cards, so he's gotta deal with this. It's too bad Sam hasn't realized that Dean's not hiding anything.

"Ok fine. What is it you want to talk about? Pretty sure things were clear last night."

Sam settles a little, finally getting Dean's attention. "First of all, why the hell would Heaven drag you out of Hell? What are they getting out of it? I doubt they went to that trouble just for kicks Dean."

The thought had occurred to him. But he liked to think it was his sunny disposition and devotion to family that had caught the angel's eyes. He gives a noncommittal grunt though, since it really is worth talking about.

" _And_  what the hell is up with this Castiel angel? I mean seriously, if angel's are so secretive no hunter has ever guessed they even exist, why's the guy being sloppy enough that we got onto his trail? Plus he just, I don't know, creeps me out." Sam turns from Dean to look out the windshield, slumping into himself a little.

"He's not  _that_  creepy Sam. I don't know, maybe his people skills are just rusty or something?"

"Dude, are you seriously defending him? He stared at you like he wanted to butter and eat you, and stared at me like he would enjoy nothing more than ripping my throat out. It was weird."

Ok yea, Dean has to give Sam that one. Castiel did have an intense stare going, and it'd make anyone's skin crawl to feel themselves laid open for something so powerful. They pull into a space at the local mom-and-pop diner, getting out of the Impala stiffly. Sam stops next to his door, leaning over the roof with hands clasped in front of him. "Look Dean, I'm not saying we write the guy off or try to go kill him. There's just, just a lot we don't know. It'd be stupid not to question everything while we still have a chance."

Dean looks down at the faded asphalt and scuffs the toe of a boot into it. Sammy's right, and he's just given Dean a perfect excuse for what he'd felt like doing since the middle of the night. "Guess we gotta go talk to him again then, don't we?"

Sam lets out a big breath, clearly not looking forward to this like Dean is. "Yea I guess we do. But we should have a game plan, get questions figured out first."

"Sounds good, we'll go after we finish here. I am  _not_  charging in on a raging tornado without some coffee and grease in my belly."

* * *

 

They're still arguing over who will be the one to ask the questions when they get within sight of the old church. Dean had insisted that they do this on Cas's turf. And yes he insisted on saying 'Cas' in part due to how much it annoyed Sam and in part because it distracted him from how overwhelmingly terrifying the angel is. A nickname always makes things seem less intimidating.

"You saw how much he disliked me Dean, it won't help anything if I'm asking the questions." Sam wouldn't let it go and they were already walking up to the door.

"Yea? Well neither will me grilling him while you glare from the sidelines."

They walk into the church, now a familiar sight to Dean, and finally agree to trade questions. A quick round of rock-paper-scissors decides that Dean will start, which is honestly fine by him. The large cavernous room is empty, no angel in sight, and looks exactly the same as the morning before. Except this time Dean knows what lurks within, and feels safer for it. They head to the front of the room, sitting in the first row of pews and looking around for any sign of the angel's presence.

"Hey Cas? I know it's kinda soon but we'd like to ask you a few-"

"Hello Dean."

"-questions. Uh, that was fast." It'd only taken a few seconds before Castiel had appeared before them just in front of the steps to the pulpit, causing both Sam and Dean to jump. He still has the khaki trench coat and suit on, as well as the blank but intense expression Sam had complained of earlier. Dean takes a moment to collect his thoughts before starting in.

"Alright so here's the deal. We believe what you said about being an angel and everything, so we won't try to kill you or make you stop, but we want some answers. It's kind of our duty as hunters." He crosses his arms as he talks and leans against the back of the pew, trying to look more sure than he really is.

"I understand Dean. I will answer your questions as best as I can. Though there may be things I am not free to reveal."

Sam makes to complain about that stipulation, but Dean waves him off with a raised hand. "That sounds reasonable. Ok then first, why are you here? I mean, here in this church."

Castiel stays standing motionless where he is, but flicks his eyes to Sam for a few seconds before returning his gaze to Dean as he speaks, "I was sent to Earth to serve out penance for an indiscretion. As I told you last night, I chose this church because it suited my purposes. And, after all, the angel's purpose is to assist what our Father has created."

"Penance for what?" Sam asks.

Castiel hesitates for a moment, eyes shifting between them and the ceiling. "I was selfish, and must spend time thinking upon my moment of weakness before being allowed back to my post."

Dean snorts with amusement and tries to hide a smile, "So you're a rebel angel?"

Castiel looks at him with an unreadable expression, seeming slightly desperate and confused. Sam gives Dean a disapproving look that quells the small chuckles before questioning the angel further, "What was it you were selfish about? That seems like a pretty big punishment."

"That I cannot tell you."

They all sit in silence for a few seconds before Dean breaks the awkwardness, "I guess that settles that. Your turn Sammy."

Sam clears his throat a little, then asks their next agreed on question, "Why would Heaven want to save Dean? Things like that rarely come without a price."

Castiel's answer is almost immediate this time, "You are both hunters. You remove undesirables from this world, therefore protecting our Father's creations. There are very few hunters whose intentions are noble and true, we would prefer to keep you able to perform your duties."

"Alright but couldn't the angels do the hunting instead of letting humans do it?" Dean asks, "You certainly seem powerful enough to do it on your own."

"Yes, we occasionally take care of problems that would be impossible for mortals. But as I have said, we prefer to remain hidden."

Sam gives a huff and when Dean turns to look at him is pulling a condescending bitch face. He should probably stop his brother before he pisses off the angel again, but Sammy starts before he can interrupt the train of thought. "If you ask me it's  _that_  kind of thing that's selfish. I can't believe that the angels are  _supposed_  to help mankind but are too busy hiding out to actually do their jobs!" Sam gets up from the pew, taking a few steps towards Castiel while gesturing towards the stained glass along the upper walls, many panes of which depict angels watching over various Biblical characters, "We're supposed to look to angels as protectors! It's your  _job_  to protect and yet you can't really be bothered? Seems hypocritical that you could be sent away for being selfish when you  _all_  are being selfish bastards by leaving us here with no help."

Castiel narrows his eyes at Sam's little rant, patiently waiting to be given the chance to speak, yet remains unmoved otherwise. He calmly thunders back, "You have quickly forgotten that we pulled your brother out of Hell. Was that not  _protecting_?"

This is quickly getting out of hand again, and Dean doesn't like where it's going. Sam needs to stop pushing the angel  _now_  or they might risk being killed off as pests or something. And since when is Sammy so damn argumentative? "Guys, calm down already, this is stupid." They ignore him, staring daggers at each other from a foot apart. Sam's height advantage doesn't seem like much with the weight of the look Castiel is managing.

"It was not our place to interfere with a deal  _he_  willingly made for  _you_." Castiel is practically seething now, even if it's just his eyes and a slight snarling of his nose that gives it away. Dean goes to grab Sam's shoulder and break this up before the angel smites him for being insolent, but the church door opening behind them all stills him.

The priest has come into the church, looking at the trio uncertainly. He can probably feel the uncomfortable atmosphere they have going on, but fortunately his presence breaks up the almost fight. Sam steps back from Castiel, eyes finding the floor.

"Can I help you gentlemen with anything?" the priest asks cautiously, walking down the side aisle towards the church offices.

Dean recovers first, "Actually yes, my brother has some questions for you. We were just showing our friend here the church and were hoping to run into you," Dean gives his most convincing smile and pats Sam on the shoulder, giving him a small shove forward. Damn kid just keeps pissing off the angel, he can deal with a priest for a minute. Sam gives him a resentful glare, but turns with an attempt at a smile and starts towards the priest. They move off through the side door, Sam asking some bullshit question about the church's stance on baptism.

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair, trying to settle himself down. Cas looks like he's back to as calm as ever, if a little bit uncomfortable. "Sorry about Sammy, he's not usually this hot headed."

Castiel just stares back at him, "I understand."

"So..." Dean tries, not sure where to go from here. Might as well pick up on the list of questions, "How come we found you? Kinda sloppy work for trying to be secretive."

The angel's expression seems to soften a bit, even if his stare stays unnerving. Dean can't bring himself to meet it for long, too much authority and he feels like his soul is being inspected. "I didn't particularly want to serve penance. I had hoped-" he stops, eyes finally leaving Dean and fixing on the pipes of the organ to his left, "If I had to serve out my time then I may as well entertain myself. I was an understudy to the organist in Heaven's Great Cathedral."

Not weird at all. No actually yea, that's very weird. But hey, this Cas dude is a weird little guy, so Dean doesn't hold it against him. Bit of a weak reason, but if Cas wants to sit around playing an overgrown piano for kicks while in angel exile then great. Just then Sam comes bursting back through the side door making a beeline for the main doors, his shirt pulled awkwardly to one side and anger lighting up his features.

"Dean! We're leaving. Now."

Without questioning it Dean turns to follow him, the tone in Sam's voice all he needs to know about the situation. He gets so far as halfway down the aisle when a thought comes to him and he slows. It's a big leap and will probably make Sammy angry, but he can deal with that later. "You know, if you get bored around here you can come with us. Hunting, I mean. Might be helpful to have a little luck on our side, and playing music by yourself can't be all that fun for long."

His offer is met with silence for a little longer than he'd like. Maybe that was stupid to say, they don't even really know the angel. But it just feels...weird, to leave him behind and alone. Dean turns to glance over his shoulder, hoping he hasn't fucked them all to hell, again. But if anything Castiel looks surprised, if only slightly.

His eyes have gone wide and his lips are parted, like he was about to speak. He gives Dean a searching look before the corner of his mouth lifts just enough to resemble a smile. It's more of an expression than Dean's got out of him so far, and he feels proud at the accomplishment for some reason.

"Yes Dean, I would like that."

"Alright it's settled. We'll give you a call, or I guess prayer, if we run into anything you can help on. Or, you know, just fly by sometime," Dean smiles back, already excited to see what a fighting angel will be like. He gives a wave and turns to go, "See ya 'round!"

* * *

 

Sam is surprisingly less angry than Dean thought he'd be that the angel was invited to hunt with them. That may be because he's still raging mad at the priest and the miscommunication they apparently had.

"I swear to you Dean, on everything that I hold dear, that if we  _ever_  find another case at a church we  _ignore it_!" Sam's making frustrated half movements, not willing to damage the Impala by punching even the seat, but needing to get out his aggression. "God that was so gross!"

"Dude you need to calm down, and don't you dare hurt my car," Dean pulled out onto the main highway out of town. Fortunately they'd packed everything before they left the motel, the stop to talk to Cas was the last thing they'd planned in the town. "You sure he didn't touch you? Cause I can turn this thing around and fuckin-"

"Dean no, just drive. He didn't really. Fuckin tried to, but I can protect myself. Just want to get out of there and forget this whole damn thing." Sam grumbles, slouching down into his seat and trying but failing to look put out,y "Oh wait, we can't put it behind us, because you  _invited the angel_."

Dean's eyes roll at Sam's theatrics and attitude. He drives them in silence for another 30 minutes, Sam pointedly sighing and looking out the window. After they pass the border into Connecticut he decides he's had enough of the little tantrum. "You know Bobby's gonna want to hear about Cas."

Sam gives a grunt to show he heard and agrees, but doesn't respond further.

"Should we call and tell him or go to his place?" Dean asks, but Sam still stares out the window with a slight glare. He'd never thought that he would actually miss post-college Sam, but this regression into petulant teenager behavior was getting old fast. "Bobby's it is then. Can you get me some directions at least?" Another heavy sigh but this time Sam moves and drags out the old map they keep under the seat.

* * *

 

It takes them two full days to get to Sioux Falls. Sam finally lets up the attitude somewhere around hour 10 of being in the car. They keep off talking about the angel in the room, but Dean figures there's nothing more to say on the matter. He's the one who makes decisions, and if Sam is going along with the one he made then who is he to complain about it. By the second day Sam's even more relaxed, singing along to a few songs he likes out of Dean's favorites. But as much as Sam's mood seems to lift, Dean's starts diving a bit.

Bobby is far less difficult to bring around to the idea than Dean expected. When they presented their case to him, he just shrugged. Apparently he's heard of crazier shit being real than angels, and is certainly not opposed to the idea that something non-evil got Dean out of Hell. However, he does share their concern on the how and why of it all. Demons never did anything without a price, they're sure there must be a catch somewhere if Heaven had done them a favor.

Sam gets restless sitting around at the house for a few days so with a promise to get researching on angel lore and anything related, Bobby sends them out again on a case in Nevada. The excitement's worn off, and he can't help his mind wandering to thoughts and feelings he does not want to have. He pushes each one down as it pops up, but it's exhausting and thirsty work. Whiskey helps both those ailments. And thank God for small favors, the weird dreams haven't come back yet.

They take out a vengeful spirit or two within a week. Then a bust werewolf hunt that turns out to just be a bear. The hunt goes on, angelic revelation or not.

* * *

 

Dean hates flying, but at least right now he's not in an airplane. Oh no this is definitely worse, it's just he doesn't have time to freak out about it. He's been tossed backwards, flung through the air. His arms are out behind him, flailing and hoping that he can catch himself when he lands, but instead of the ground he smacks into something cold. He's landed in a pool and the shock of suddenly falling into water keeps him from staying dignified, letting out a little scream and sinking slightly before he can start treading the water. It's not terribly deep, he can just barely touch the tip of his boot to the bottom, but he can't stand in it.

"Sammy! Little help!" he yells out, trying to regain his senses from the impact. Sam yells something back from a ways off, but with the water covering his ears intermittently he's not sure what it is he said. A flash of movement to his right catches his eye and he heads in the opposite direction. That is not where Sam's voice came from, can only be one of the damn shifters. Who expected there'd be  _three_  of them.

He only has a few feet left to go when he's dragged under by hands on his shoulder and waist. Limbs start kicking and punching, but the water slows him down. It ends up being more like wild thrashing against whatever has a grip on him, but they're holding tight, and he's running out of air.

A foot connects with something solid finally, but it doesn't seem to do any good. The vise like hold on him increases, their legs winding around his own to try and keep him still and under. Sharp pain in his side and now he's yelling out the rest of his air supply, trying desperately to make it just the short distance to the surface. Chlorinated water fills his mouth and nose and he chokes on it.

God this is stupid. Dean Winchester, drowned in a frikken pool. He should have invited Cas along on this one, could have used the extra man to even the odds. Three against three, he likes those odds. His body fights against him, pulling in a breath even though there's no air to take in, the chemicals in the water burn his throat, burn his lungs more. Everything's turning black. He closes his eyes. There's a white light, and he knows to go towards it. No use staying behind and turning into something he hunted while alive.

Dean loses a few seconds, lost in a cool dark space beyond the reach of consciousness. Then with a jolt he's breathing and looking up at the night sky. Still in the pool but floating on his back, he takes in shuddering breaths, the chlorine smell and taste filling up his sluggish senses.

It makes him think of hot summer days when he and Sam were young and lucky enough to be left at a motel that had a pool. Sun beating down on their skin, the taste of salty sweat and popsicles. His favorite was always cherry. Sammy liked grape, and it never failed to make his lips purple for the entire day. They'd play in the water for hours, throwing coins to the opposite ends of the pool and racing to see who could get theirs first. And when Sam was really young his hair would smell of the chlorine while he curled on Dean's chest at night instead of a security blanket.

Dean can't help but smile at the memories as he floats and feels his heartbeat slowing down from the stress of nearly drowning. It'd be so easy to just stay right here, the empty pit in his chest feeling full again, enjoying the memories. But there is someone talking to him, and he has to break from the reverie.

"Dean." No he can ignore it for a few more seconds, this feeling is more important to cling to.

" _Dean_. You need to come back." A hand that has apparently been holding him up in the water gives him a shove, demanding his attention. He tilts his head back, assuming he'll see Sam even though the voice is far too rough to be his brother.

"Hey Cas, what're you doing here?" Somehow he's not surprised to see the angel, even though he knows he should be.

"You called for me Dean, and you were-" Castiel says, looking at Dean with a small amount of concern on his otherwise blank face, "I was able to remove the water from your lungs, but did not touch your mind. It may take a few minutes for the oxygen to clear your thoughts."

Speaking of, they were definitely starting to clear. What the hell is he doing floating in a pool with an angel for support? Dean quickly rights himself, finding that he'd been moved to a shallower part of the pool and can stand with the water at chest height. He faces off with Castiel, who is also in the water, trench coat billowing around him. Dean laughs at the sight, "Woulda thought you'd just walk on water, not get down in it."

Castiel gives him an unimpressed face and moves his gaze off to the side. Sam comes bursting through the bushes with wild eyes and looking like he just ran a marathon. He takes in the scene then pulls an almost comical face of confusion. "Dean? Cas?"

Alright, time to get out. "Well thanks man, I mean it. Now come on, let's get out and dry before we catch pneumonia." A hard yanking feeling pulls in his gut and in half of a second he's standing on the side of the pool with Sam, clothes and skin completely dry, beside an equally dry Castiel. If he were any less confused about this entire situation he would be startled, but honestly it's not the weirdest thing that's happened in the past few minutes. "Angel powers certainly come in handy, huh?"

He only gets an unreadable stare back. "I do not get sick Dean, but it seemed the quickest way to ensure you wouldn't become ill from the cold water."

Dean decides to let it slide for now, the other issues at hand more pressing, "Where's the other shifters Sam? I thought I saw the other two take after you." The third is laying face down in the pool, apparently dead.

"Yea I don't know, they just, fell over in a bunch of light."

"That was me. I made sure that they were taken care of promptly." Castiel looks between them both, seeming vaguely proud even if his expression remains neutral, "I believe it would have been difficult to handle with Dean dead and Sam outnumbered."

"Wait you were-" Sam's eyes have gone wide, scanning Dean.

"Obviously not! I'm walkin and talkin so it's no big deal!"

"He did lose consciousness for a few moments, but fortunately he called to me in time," Castiel says smoothly.

They stand staring at one another. Not entirely sure where to go from here. Sam looks uncomfortable about the entire thing, giving Dean worried looks and glancing at Castiel every time he makes a tiny movement.

"Alright, well, if this is wrapped up then we should go celebrate. Not everyday that you take down three shifters with an angel  _and_  nearly drown!" Dean claps Sam and Cas both on the shoulders. Sam finally cracks a smile at the idea, shoulders shaking as he laughs a little. They start moving towards where they parked the Impala, but Castiel doesn't make a move to follow.

"Thank you for the invitation, but...perhaps another time," Castiel says, eyes fixed on the ground a few paces past Dean.

"Come on, you just saved our asses, you've earned some fun," Sam says, surprising Dean with his warmness towards the angel. Maybe it was the lifesaving rescue that has him opening up.

Castiel glances quickly up at Dean then looks back away. "Forgive me, I must return now." He's gone before Dean can say anything, or give him a proper thank you.

With a huff Dean turns to Sam, eyebrows raised. They share a look that says 'I don't know but whatever' and make their way to the car, beers and good times in their immediate future.

The local bar is nicely full and they manage to not only make a little money on some pool but also pick up two gorgeous girls for the night. The brunette that Dean leaves with turns out to be entirely unsatisfying. Nothing that the girl does is a problem or bad, he just feels odd and can't quite shake the feeling.

It's around 2 am and she's sleeping soundly next to him making small sounds when he realizes that the feeling is that emptiness he gets when he's most alone. It'd been gone for a while since the chlorine from the pool brought back memories, but now it's like a sinkhole appeared right under his ribs. He quietly gets up and pulls on his clothes, leaving her apartment and heading back to the motel. No point in staying the night if he's not in any way looking forward to morning sex.

Looks like Sam went to the other girl's place, Dean's alone in the motel. He grabs a quick shower, more of a rinse off really, just to get the sweat of someone else off of him. He puzzles over the loneliness that's eating him up, wondering why she made him feel this way or whether it had nothing to do with the girl at all. But blessedly alone in his bed with a few swallows of whiskey sleep comes on quickly, quieting his mind down. His dreams are muddled visions of water, blue eyes, and melting summer popsicles.


	6. Chapter 6

\-- time jump forward --

_Beep Beep Beep_

Ugh, is there a worse sound than the alarm clock far too early in the morning? Dean pushes snooze, resolving to get at least 5 more minutes. There are no other sounds in the room, so Sam must already be up and out. Dean drifts and burrows down a little more, wrapping up in heat, and chases after the half-memories of the dreams he was having.

There had been wings that fluttered in front of his eyes then took off into birds. He was running, just endlessly running, in a desert. Or maybe it had been a forest? He can't quite remember. Maybe if he just keeps his eyes closed and lets that pull of sleep drag him back down it'll come to him.

_Beep Beep Be-_

This time he doesn't hesitate to just turn the damn thing off. It's only...oh great, 8:45...but might as well get up and moving before Sam gets back. The lectures about his health and how sleeping in is bad for you have been getting annoying. With a minimum of grumbles Dean gets up and dressed for the day, even taking the time to shave ahead of his usual 'when needed' schedule. He's just finishing up his right jaw when the door to the room opens.

"Rise and shine De- oh, you're already up," Sam says, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yea, well I don't do it for just anyone. You get breakfast?"

The thud of a bag on the side table is his answer. He does a few more swipes with the razor and towels off the rest of the shaving cream. A satisfied smirk spreads across his face as he assesses his work, he's going to Hell again one day anyways, what's a little vanity going to hurt?

"You tryin' to butter me up for something?" he asks, making his way over to sit across from Sam who has planted himself with the laptop. He doesn't even get a glance or acknowledgement. "You know, whatever stick you have had up your ass for the past few months needs to come out real soon. You're not much of a joy to be around, breakfast bringing or not."

"Just eat your food and let's get going. I think I found us a lead." Sam grumbles without looking up from the computer.

"Is this still about the angel? Because I thought we'd talked that out the last ten times you got your period." Dean pulls the wrapper off the bacon and egg sandwich Sam brought, stomach churning a little in anticipation before he chomps down.

"It's not...That conversation goes nowhere since you're far too happy to trust someone we  _don't_  know. Who isn't even human for Christ's sake! Just...you know what, no, let's not." Sam glares at him before going back to typing. "I found someone who is apparently a survivor. Scars from fang marks but she never came forward for the police. Worth interviewing her."

Leave it to Sam to breeze past things he doesn't want to talk about. Sure he's more than happy to trample all over topics that  _others_  want to avoid, but when it's himself, never. Dean's been fighting with him since they discovered Cas in his creepy hiding place. A full two months and the kid is still not okay with the entire situation. In the time since they've only seen Cas four times, each one because either they were in peril or needed some advise on whatever they happened to be hunting. Turns out the guy knows as much as Bobby about the supernatural. Plus, he's gone almost stalker and shows up right when they need him in tough situations.

Sam's complete mistrust in Cas is starting to drag on Dean's nerves, but not nearly as much as his frequent nights out. Twice a week he's either out with a girl he picked up at a bar or just leaves in the middle of the night for a jog to 'clear his thoughts'. Not that Dean has any room to talk, what with the amount of womanizing he's accomplished in his life, but it's weird for Sam. Dean whores while Sam snores, that's the way it's always been, and it should  _stay_  that way.

Sandwich finished Dean gets up with his coffee to grab the car keys. "Whatever you say Sammy, let's go get us some vamps."

* * *

 

Dean comes to in a vague kind of consciousness, apparently having been shoved into the Impala's front seat. The engine roars from somewhere in the haze that keeps settling over his vision and mind. For a moment he's proud of his baby for how gorgeous she sounds, but then pain chases away those thoughts as well as a wave of confusion.

He can hear Sam somewhere above where he's resting his head on vinyl. The material feels tacky against his cheek, like it sometimes gets when the sun heats it up all day. Sam's voice is panicky, and he's talking to someone who apparently isn't talking back, or on second listen it's more like arguing and begging. Maybe they've all finally gone crazy. He'll ask Cas about it next time the bastard shows up.

Dean blacks out.

It feels like he only blinked for a second, but when he comes to again he's laying on a motel bed. He can hear hurried whispers but they cut off as soon as he moves his head slightly. The bed dips and Sam's anxious face appears to his left and Castiel's slightly startled face to his right.

His mind is surprisingly clearer than it had been, even if the rest of his body is screaming at him in protest of every breath and heartbeat. A wound to his thigh is throbbing with a vengeance and those cracked ribs where he'd been thrown into a dresser are pressing uncomfortably close to a lung.

Unable to make any sound but a pitiful whimper he tries to move his arm, but the effort sends off fresh sparks of pain from yet another injury he hadn't cataloged during the fight. Sam's face draws up, fear mixing in with the anxiety, and he shushes Dean. A hand from Cas presses into his shoulder, silently demanding that he not move.

"Dean you need to stay still for this." Castiel sounds as unaffected as usual, even if his eyes show a small bit of worry. "This shouldn't take long to heal." A strange tingling sensation starts in his right hand, almost as though it had been asleep and is regaining feeling. The tingling works its way through his wrist and then jumps to his ribs and abdomen.

"You're doing great Dean, how does it feel? What can you remember?" Sam asks.

Now that he thinks about it, there's not much he can remember past- "Uh, I...what the hell is,"  _Snap_. "Ah Goddamnit! Woah, actually that feels better." The pain in his side is gone, replaced with some of that residual tingling.

"My apologies, I am new to healing cracked bones." Castiel murmurs, looking slightly upset. The angel's eyes are staring at the burn mark that's been uncovered. Apparently they took his shirt off. Dean hates the scar, it's awkward to try and explain to people because, come on, how do you get a burned  _handprint._  Castiel moves his hand to just under the burn where a good sized gash is, the source of his earlier arm pain it seems. With a small touch the cut glows and knits together with more tingling.

"Yea that's...fun souvenir from Hell. At least it looks pretty badass, even if it's a bit small," he says. Just gotta play it cool, make it seem like he isn't embarassed. He puts on a proud smirk, "Probably from a girl with how dainty the fingers are, right?"

Cas looks him in the eye at that remark, glaring and looking vaguely disapproving. The hell is his problem? "You should be alright now, I have healed everything." In a small burst of sound he's gone, leaving them alone. Sam doesn't really seem to notice or care.

"Dean you ok? Listen, the nest is taken care of, so we're good, but we should head out soon. I don't think the police bought my story, the dispatch lady recognized my voice so they could be here any minute." Sam gets up and starts running about the room, throwing clothes and weapons into their duffle bags in a hurry. Dean grunts and gets up, earning a stern look from Sam. "You were out for over an hour Dean, don't push yourself."

"Nah, Cas said I'm good, we need to get out of here. Pass me my bag." As he goes to shove their toothbrushes into a little satchel he sends up a silent prayer,  _Not sure why you ran off but thanks man, we seriously owe you one. Again._

They get the room packed up within five minutes, too many years of having to make fast get aways paying off. Even though he complains about it heavily, Dean allows Sam to drive. Near death experiences are reason enough for riding shotgun he supposes, but it's the principal of the thing. Baby needs delicate maneuvering, and with Sam's clumsy bigfoot reflexes...

They stay silent until they get out of town to ensure that they don't do anything that would draw attention to themselves. Getting caught for speeding or 'reckless driving', as some half-assed cops have accused Dean, is not a good way to lay low.

Five seconds past the city limits sign they both start in.

"Ok Dean so what the hell was that?"

"Dude that was  _awesome_!"

They glance in surprise at each other. Dean had assumed that Sam would be on the same page as him. I mean, getting magic saved by an angel? Kinda awesome. Even not knowing the full story yet, he's pretty sure it's going to be one of the once in a lifetime stories all the hunters share when they run into each other.

"Ok why isn't this the best thing that's ever happened to us? I mean, instant healing? It's been handy to have on tap, am I right?"

"No, Dean, not really. There were  _four_  vamps. We were getting our asses handed to us! I prayed to Cas within the first few hits, cause there was  _no_  way we were walking out of there alive, or human, on our own! He didn't come until we got back to the motel saying that you'd called out to him.  _I could have lost you!"_

That certainly changes the story and good feelings a bit. "What do you mean he wouldn't show when you asked? He said we could pray to him anytime."

"You think I don't know that? I don't really trust the guy, but Dean, he let us get hurt pretty bad before he came to help. Some 'protector' angels are." Sam's voice is coated with sarcasm and disdain. "You could have  _died Dean_."

"Well, I'm not dead. And wait, if I was unconscious then how the hell did I call for him?"

Sam gives a heavy sigh, "Look what's the last thing you remember?"

"We went down the hall in the upstairs and I went into the first room. Kinda spotty after that, just random impressions."

"Alright. Well short version: We were ambushed and since you went in first you took most of it. I think you downed two while I handled another, but they really cut you down good De. It was...there was just a lot of blood and you weren't getting back up. I had been calling out to Cas since they first jumped us, but he wasn't showing. I don't know how I got the last one down, but I took care of it and got you out of there and torched the place. I called the cops on the drive back, they recognized my voice. I spent the rest of the drive begging to Cas. He only showed up when we got to the motel and you were barely responding." Sam says in a rush. He's flushed with anger, hands gripping the steering wheel to keep focused on driving.

"Wow ok, not really a short version but thanks," Dean rests back against the seat, taking it in. He certainly does seem to remember some of the story, but it's all fuzzy, like memories get when he's drunk. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"What I want you to-?!" Sam whips his head around, eyes wide with shock and stupid long hair billowing.

"Eyes on the road! You think I'll let you drive her again if you get a scratch on my baby?"

Sam's eyes go back to the road, but he gives an annoyed huff. Dean's pretty sure he's bitchfacing in the dark. "Dean this is just another example of why we can't trust the guy. He says he'll be there but chokes when it really matters. Seriously, we need to just cut ties and go back to how we were  _before_  you added a third wheel."

"Third wheel? Seriously Sam?" He and Sam are not stuck to being a duo, they could add other people to the group if they wanted and it wasn't weird. Like Bobby, he could join anytime he wanted and Sam didn't complain. And that Ruby demon chick for a while. Kind of a bitch but was useful at times, he'll admit it. Cas is no different, just another transient group member. Who kinda apparently almost let him die.

"Look Sam, what if I talk to him? Since you two apparently don't get along."

Sam makes an annoyed grumbling sound, shaking his head a little. "I'd prefer we just ditch him but fine. Go talk it out since that's your best skill."

"Hey! Just cause I don't like or do chick flick moments does not mean I can't have a conversation. And I'm pretty sure this is won't involve feelings, dude can't even smile. I doubt he'll break down in tears."

Sam agrees with him and seems settled, but this new info is making Dean feel conflicted and horrified at himself. It's only been  _two months_  since they met Castiel, and already they're relying on him to come bail them out of tough spots. Even if he has been helpful, they shouldn't be placing that much trust in his help. Tonight just proves it, they'be become reckless if this false sense of safety. In the past they would have seen the signs that this was a nest and not just one vampire. They've been getting sloppy.

But what if they should rely on him? They relied on Bobby all the time for everything, and that wasn't a weakness or problem. Ellen and Jo helped when they could too, and Ash was invaluable. Why shouldn't they add another person to the list of colleagues? People make mistakes, right?

Deans head swirls with questions and rationalizations. A sense of unease settles in his chest, though what part exactly is causing it he can't tell. He sighs and closes his eyes, letting his thoughts go where they will.

* * *

 

They make it to the next state within a few hours and pull off into the first motel they come across. It's 1 am but fortunately the front office is open. Sam gets the keys and heads to their room, leaving Dean in the car to talk to Cas, if the angel will show. Dean's not entirely sure that he will.

He picks a parking spot under a street light that's away from the other cars. Social rules dictate that you don't park right next to cars that are off by themselves, so it should keep randoms from bothering them. At least in theory it should, and that's all Dean has to go on.

He cuts off the engine, sitting in the silence for a moment or two. The streetlight provides enough orange light to see in the car, but not enough for the contours of the seats to be clear. Good, he doesn't want to be able to see as well as feel that intense gaze he'll be getting.

"Uh dear Castiel, I pray to your life saving ass. Hoping we can have a talk."

Just a slight whisper of air movement gives away the appearance of Cas in the passengers seat next to him. "Hello Dean."

They look at each other for a few seconds before Dean looks away into the dark out the windshield. Cas remains still, his eyes looking right at Dean.

With a small clearing of his throat Dean tries to start. "Look uh...thanks man, for earlier. Literally saved my life."

"Of course Dean. I am glad that I could be of assistance."

A few more seconds of awkward silence, although he suspects he's the only one feeling it. This kind of discomfort is exactly why Dean doesn't do chick flick moments. But there's no way he's pussying out of this with Sam waiting to hear what goes down. "So listen, Sam and I talked. And I gotta ask, why didn't you show up when Sam was calling for you? You fly in mid-prayer most of the time."

"I am not sure what you mean Dean. I came as soon as I could."

"Oh come on Cas, don't play dumb. You always come in right on time like Gandalf in Two Towers. Except tonight apparently."

"I do not understand that reference Dean. However, I was in time to save you if that is what you are referring to. Sam had the rest well in hand. I'm not seeing the problem."

Dean turns his body towards Cas whose eyes are still glued to him, not bothering to hide his annoyance, "See that's the thing. You  _knew_  Sam was calling for you but chose to ignore him. You never ignore me. So what the hell happened? And stop staring at me like that, it's creepy."

Castiel is silent for a moment, regarding Dean in a way that almost seems wary. He just wishes the angel would spit out whatever the problem is. "I did hear Sam. But I was not given permission to assist."

What a lie that is cause he certainly  _did_  assist. "But you did come and help Cas so-"

"Yes Dean, I did. I chose to, dispite the direct orders given to me. My superiors were not pleased."

"They weren't-?" Dean rubs a hand over his face then decides to try a different tactic. "Ok seriously what the hell Cas? Either we can rely on you to be there, and I mean  _we_ , that includes Sam, or you should just leave us alone. Because friends don't do this crap to each other."  _That_  certainly got through the angel's stony exterior. Just a small twitch of his hands as they rest on his legs, but it's enough of a tell that Dean knows he hit a nerve. "I mean, we barely know anything about you but I assume we're friends."

Castiel looks away from Dean, subjecting the trees at the end of the parking lot with his glare instead. "I like to believe that we are...friends...as well Dean. Heaven's rules are put in place to protect-"

"Yea and what do you need protecting from?" Dean says with laughter in his voice. The very idea of the badass angel needing protection from  _anything_  is just ludicrous. The few times he's seen Cas in action is like watching a train take out a pile of sticks set on the railroad tracks.

"It's not me who needs protecting Dean, it's you." The gaze is back, blue piercing right into him. "To be more specific, humanity is what needs to be protected."

"Then  _where were you?_ " Dean says, voice raising slightly. "I could have died and you weren't answering Sam. I get if your boss isn't a fan of us or whatever, but if you promise to be there you gotta stick to that promise."

"I  _tried_  Dean." Cas's eyes squint up at him in displeasure. "I heard Sam the moment he prayed, but was detained by Raphael. He and Uriel have not been pleased with our relationship," Dean cringes a little at his wording, "Their followers have been petitioning for some time to bring me back to Heaven under watch for the duration of my penance. Fortunately, Balthazar and I were able to gain support and I came to you in time."

"Ok wait, who? And dont call this a 'relationship', cause I know what you mean but it just sounds weird."

Cas's eyes stay displeased, but his shoulders droop in annoyance. "They are fellow angels. Raphael is my superior. That is all you need to know."

"So if I get this straight, Heaven doesn't want you hanging out with us but you convinced them it was alright?" Dean perks up a little at the thought. He'd been ready to hate the guy for abandoning them, but if he was fighting for them even against  _Heaven_  then this is certainly a friend they cannot risk losing. And from the sound of it he doesn't want to lose their friendship either.

"Yes Dean, I was given permission to stay and assist wherever possible. I should be more free to come and go now."

"Well then...you gonna hang out a little more? Cause I gotta say, having an angel on our shoulders comes in handy. Plus, we should all know each other more if we'll be working together," Dean grins over at the angel, who gives a barely there smile in return and a small nod of agreement. The prospect of having Cas along for hunts more often gets him excited. And if this means they can rely on him to be there then Sam will...

Crap. Sam.

"You'll have your work cut out with Sam, but I'm glad this'll work," Dean says, a cocky smile spreading across his face. No matter what he can always get Sam to calm down. Hell, if he could convince the kid to vacate motels for a few hours when he brought back a girl, then getting him to okay having an angel on their side should be easy.

"I'm looking forward to it Dean." Cas's eyes are almost shining in the darkness with how pleased he looks. No toothy grin like Dean, but in his own way he seems pleased.

And so the next morning finds Dean in a diner sitting next to the new winged member of the team with a fuming Sam across the table.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people were upset at how Sam's being portrayed, but let me assure you, there is a good reason for it! He's always shown as super sweet, I wanted to take it a different route, but he will have his storyline explored and come out of it our favorite golden boy :)

It's been five weeks and four hunts and they've finally hit their stride as a team. But now they're in a lull, stuck in this miserable place. August is just ending but in Alabama you can't tell. The night air's practically dripping with humidity, even while the cheap air conditioner in the motel rattles on, and if Dean were to take a step outside he's sure his skin would feel like it's boiling right off of him.

At the moment Dean's sprawled nearly naked on his bed, arms and legs as wide as he can get them in hopes of cooling off a tad bit more. Sam's been out since early evening and isn't expected back for the rest of the night. Taking that stuck up blonde from the cafe out on a date or something, doing Dean doesn't care what.

All he does know about it is that it makes him angry. Or maybe not angry exactly, but something negative that's for sure. That emptiness has crept back into him as it always done when he's left alone, and being left to simmer in the heat with it is not helping.

He gets up, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, and grabs another cold beer from the mini-fridge. The three he's had so far have done plenty to make him feel better temperature-wise, but the alcohol is loosening up his emotions more than he'd like, spikes of fear and loneliness rising up unbidden every now and then. Still, better than slowly roasting to death.

He settles back on the bed and sips at his beer, absently watching the western that's on the TV. It's a boring show but the small runner at the bottom of the screen advertises that his favorite, 'The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly', is on next.

Without even thinking it through he prays up to Cas, "Hey Cas, no rush or anything, just a heads up if you want to join in 10 minutes. Watching a show and would love the company."

Well, fuck, that was monumentally stupid.

Dean looks down at himself, taking in all the skin he'd forgotten about before calling the damn angel to  _hang out._ Maybe a shirt and some pants would be a good idea. Even though it's a million degrees, better safe than too exposed around another dude. Sam wouldn't care, they're brothers after all, but he's not sure how Cas would take it.

Grumbling at himself he goes to pull on some clothes, stopping in the bathroom to run a wet washcloth over his neck and face. And while he's at it maybe fix his hair. It was looking a little flat from laying on the bed.

He goes back into their room and goes about straightening their things that are laying around. No reason to not look like they have their shit together. Not that Cas has judged them on anything yet, but even so he'd rather put forward their most organized face.

And crap, where's the angel going to even sit.

Dean hasn't thought this through at all. Another one of his split second decisions that end horribly. Why the hell did he invite Cas here without even considering it first? He makes an annoyed growl at himself, going to straighten the sheets on Sam's bed. With no chairs in the room that'll have to do.

He grabs two more beers out of the fridge, and turns around to see the angel calmly standing directly behind him.

"Hello Dean."

"Hey Cas!" he says far more brightly than he intended to. They look at each other for a moment too long, Cas a picture of patient while Dean's sure he's doing a good impression of a deer in headlights. Finally he breaks the gaze, holding out a drink which makes Cas tilt his head. "Here, I know you don't need to drink but it's hot as hell here today."

Thank God the angel has gotten used to some rules of politeness. He takes the beer with a nod, "Thank you Dean. What will we be watching today? And will Sam be joining us?"

"Yea uh-" he starts, but his train of thought derails as Cas walks over to sit on  _his_  bed. "Yea that's...uh."

Cas looks up at him with wide confused eyes then glances around at himself, clearly trying to see what the problem is. He tilts his head again as he regards the rest of the room.

"You're making me sweat in sympathy dude. Lose the monkey suit, it's like, a million degrees."

"Temperature does not affect me Dean. But if it would be more socially acceptable I will oblige." Cas deadpans, setting his unopened beer on the nightstand to pull off the trench coat and suit jacket. He folds them with delicate movements and sets them next to himself on the bed then looks up expectantly. Dean can't help but draw a comparison to a puppy when the head tilt kicks in, and he gives a nod of approval at Cas.

Cas seems satisfied at that and goes to grab and open his beer. "You haven't answered my question yet," he reminds Dean.

"My favorite western is on. And Sam is out." Dean throws himself onto Sam's bed, setting against the headboard, a mirror of Cas. He's sweating again, though it's probably just from the heat, which is not getting better with midnight approaching in a few hours.

"I'll be sure to pay attention. However I have a question..."

As it would turn out, watching movies with Castiel entails less 'watching' and more 'explaining' than Dean had anticipated. But as he discusses the finer points of old western justice he finds himself enjoying this. He's paid very little attention to the plot, though Cas seems to be memorizing everything while simultaneously listening to Dean's explanations, and yet he doesn't mind missing most of it. Getting to relax and share some camaraderie time is something he hasn't had in a while. For the moment he can forget about that aching in his chest and just enjoy. And Cas is an easy companion, even if he did steal Dean's spot.

The time passes swiftly, and before he knows it the credits roll while Cas gives a long winded critique. It's more talking than he's ever got out of the angel, and even though his opinion is a bit wrong (in Dean's opinion) it's entertaining to listen to.

It's been so long since Dean had a friend he could just enjoy being around. Sure Sam fills that place a lot of the time, but there's something different about having your brother around versus someone else. And yea, Cas is weird, but Dean would never hold that against him. Dude's spent  _literally_  forever up on Heaven, he can't be blamed for not getting how to act human. Though he's certainly picked up on plenty in the short time he's been around them, like the way he runs a hand over his face when annoyed or how he plays with the bottle while drinking a beer.

And now that he thinks of it, maybe this loneliness for a friend was that empty feeling he's had, it certainly goes away when they hang out with Cas. Regardless, he's generally felt better since Cas joined, so he's not going to complain.

They talk for a few more minutes before Cas gets the spaced out look on his face he gets when listening to his angel radio. "I must return now, my superiors are searching for me."

"Alright, no problem. Thanks for hangin out tonight, we should do this more often, lot of movies to see," Dean says smiling over.

"Yes, I would like that Dean," Cas's mouth twitches up into his approximation of a smile. "Until next time." And with that he's gone, jackets taken with him.

Dean lets out a deep sigh. Without Cas here the motel feels infinitely more depressing. And then the air conditioner makes a fatal clanking sound and kicks off. Almost immediately the air turns oppressive.

Fucking great.

Dean decides that 1 am isn't all that late, plus he will never sleep without that machine running, so he strips back down and sets to work fixing the air conditioner. It's hot miserable work, but gives his hands something to do while he lets this thoughts wander. The monotonous motions easily keep him focused.

He makes a short mental list of movies he should make Cas watch. There's so many that he and Sam reference on a daily basis, but he should stick to a manageable list. Definitely Star Wars and Indiana Jones. Maybe some Disney movies, but not the princess ones. And Pulp Fiction. That's making the list for sure.

Once he has the air pulsing back through the room he grabs a quick cold shower to rinse the sweat off and cool his body down some for sleep. He doesn't bother with clothes, just slips on a pair of boxers before sprawling across his bed. With a big sigh he face plants into his pillow.

Which now smells like pine needles and open air. Thanks Cas.

He'd be more annoyed if it was a bad smell or if he had the energy to really care. As it is, the humidity has sapped what strength he had left and he swiftly falls into a fitful sleep.

His dreams are nothing terribly special. Full of the usual; hunting, women, etc. Only bits of the last one stay with him once he wakes.

_He and Sam running through houses on search of who knows what. He stops to take a breath, sure that they've passed through this hallway several times already. Sam rounds on him demanding that they keep going but at that moment Cas appears down the hall, his hair and coat whipping wildly about with his sudden appearance. He yells something at them, but the sound doesn't reach. Sam takes off the opposite way, resisting the arm Dean throws out to keep him there. There's no way they can hunt separately and survive._

_But Cas starts running and Dean takes after him, leaving Sam to take care of himself. Within a few steps the house starts to dissolve around them into the field that he's often seen in his dreams. He keeps chasing after the angel, never running out of breath in this dream world._

_He sees Cas come to a stop ahead on a small hill, the flowers brushing his hands and swallowing him up. But when Dean gets within a few feet the angel vanishes, leaving him alone in the meadow wondering where Cas has got to and whether Sam is coming back._

* * *

The next morning's weather is no better. Fortunately the air conditioner seems to have held up overnight, but Dean still feels sticky with sweat when he goes to get out of bed.

He grabs a fast shower that's more tepid than cold and runs through the notes on the witch case they're investigating. He's about to get up and get breakfast without Sam when said brother comes slinking in.

"Morning. Have fun with Taylor?" he says without glancing up from reading.

"Huh?" Sam stops and gives him a puzzled look. Then his eyes light up a bit, "Oh yea she was great. Had a good time!"

"Wow. Regular Casanova now, eh Sammy?"

Sam gives a noncommittal answer and goes into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He sticks his head back out while he's waiting for the water to heat, "Oh yea and I looked into the case a little this morning, definitely not witches or our thing. Just some pretty ingenious pranks."

"When the hell'd you have time to do that?"

"I woke up early and figured I should be productive," Sam says with a shrug, "Might as well pack up and head out. Preferably somewhere less humid."

Dean mutters to himself as Sam ducks back into the bathroom to get showered. Damn kid has been way too productive since Dean came back from Hell. Barely even need to do much investigating with how much research he can accomplish.

He's just finished putting the last of their things in the car when Sam comes out duffle in hand, "So what'd you get into last night?"

"Not much, watched a few westerns and tried not to die in this heat." He says, conveniently avoiding the topic of Cas.

"Sounds like a blast," Sam says smirking, "Come on then, let's get going."

Dean drives to the diner down the street before heading out of town and Sam calls Bobby for a lead while he's inside getting their food. The diner has decent looking breakfast, but he's in agreement with Sam, too hot to stay this far South for long. He grabs up the bag of food and coffee holder then plunges back out into the soupy heat.

"-good we'll head up there. Should make it by night. Thanks Bobby. " Sam shuts his phone and grabs the drinks from Dean. "Did you get me hash browns?"

"Yea they're in here," Dean starts digging through the bag to divvy up their food. "What'd Bobby have for us?"

Sam stuffs a mouthful of breakfast sandwich in his mouth, "Got some weird murders up in Connecticut. Looks like some kind of animal, but it's particular about the organs it wants."

"Spare the details til I finish eating, 'kay? Just happy to be going North." Dean says, praising God for the soon to be cooler weather. He gets the car going then pulls out onto the road, taking the next available North exit.

* * *

Around Roanoke, Virginia Dean starts to get stir crazy. He'd let Sam drive for a bit after the first 4 hours, but they've switched back and there's only so long he can stare at the highway.

Now Sam's curled up against the door reading a book giving Dean nothing to entertain himself with. Just endless stretches of road around mountains and valleys. Music is apparently too distracting for the nerd to read with. Damn little brother.

Well if he can't have his tunes and has to stay awake for the rest of the drive then he ought to have some company. "Dear Castiel, hope you're listening-"

"Really Dean?"

"- we are on Route 81 close to Richmond if you want to come hang out."

He turns to look at the face Sam is making at him and gives his own right back. Before Sam can start protesting the sound of moving air announces the arrival of the angel.

"Hello Dean. Sam." Cas says in his trademark monotone looking at Dean in the rear view.

"Heya Cas, what's shakin'?"

"I'm fi-..what?" Cas tilts his head and squints at Dean.

"You know, how're you doing?" Sam mutters irritably.

"I am...well? Why would you ask if I am shaking? I can assure you that I am in no way afraid at the momen-"

"It's an expression. Hand me my bag will ya Cas? I need my headphones." Sam leans back holding his hand out. Castiel searches for the correct bag then passes it to him while Dean shares a silent conversation with his brother. Sam's blatant rudeness is uncalled for and Dean's raised eyebrows and insistent look get the point across. Sam just shakes his head and glances away, not in the mood for having this discussion. He takes out the noise canceling headset and dives back into his book.

Dean glances up into the rear view and is immediately met with concerned blue staring at him, "Is Sam alright Dean?"

A honk draws his eyes back to the road where he's drifted a touch into the next lane. He corrects quickly, "Yea Cas he's good."

"Then I have offended him in some way?"

Of course the angel is being selfless, assuming that anyone's discomfort is on his behalf and not their own poor damn attitude. "No he's just being a little bitch," he jabs Sam lightly in the ribs, startling him from his reading and getting a quick glare, "aren't you Sammy?"

He chats with Cas as Sam goes back to his reading for a few hours. Cas is always reluctant to answer many questions about himself, but is full of questions about Dean. He tells Cas about his parents, glossing over some details, tells him about Bobby and the salvage yard, they discuss his musical preferences and he retells his favorite story about winning a wrestling medal when he was 16.

All in all it's a pleasant drive and in no time the sun has gone down, taking Sam's reading light, forcing him to join in the conversation. Cas politely asks questions of him as well, sticking to topics that are simple enough to talk about without getting into any emotions. At first Sam hesitates, but within a bit he opens up a touch. It's more than Dean expected from him, considering his mood lately.

They talk about nothing important for a time until Cas announces that he must leave. With a promise to come when they call next he flies off, presumably back to the church inside Boston or up to Heaven.

"See? That wasn't so hard now, was it Sam?"

"I never said it was. It's just..." Sam trails off and slumps down into his seat. "Knowing what we do about me having demon blood...I just feel so much lesser with an  _actual_  angel around."

Ah that explains it. Dean had been worried for weeks that it was something he wasn't picking up on that had Sam annoyed about Cas. But it's just the same old crap they've always dealt with. And yea he kinda gets it. All his time in Hell can make him feel inferior to Cas too, but it's not like the guy treats him any differently.

"Dude if he's cool with me having gone to Hell, then I doubt he's judging you for what that bastard did when you were a baby. And besides, it's not like you're doing anything with that stuff anymore. Let it go man."

Sam huffs a little in amusement, "Yea I guess I should. But whatever, he's your friend, not mine."

"He's-'" Dean stutters out before Sam cuts him off.

"You were the one that found him and you are the one he likes. I'm just third wheeling it here."

"Well you don't have to say it so fucking weird," Dean grumbles. Seriously, makes it sound like he's dating the angel, "He's just more comfortable with me because I actually put forth some  _effort_  in the friendship. You just shut down."

They sit in silence for a few moments, lit by passing headlights every few seconds. Sam huffs at something he'd thought then scoots down in his seat, "Whatever just wake me up when we get there."

* * *

And of course the killings stop the minute they roll into town. Dean's had just about enough of questioning people in town with no real reason to give them. The local police are still investigating, but only half heartedly. And it's starting to look suspicious for supposed FBI to hang around.

The killings have all been occurring to employes at a factory on the outskirts of town. They've just finished yet another bust interview with yet another employee when Dean suggests calling in Cas for some direction.

"Dean no, we can deal with this on our own. You rely on him way too much already, we should stay self-sufficient," Sam says from across the diner booth, "and before you start in on me not trusting him again that  _isn't_ what I'm saying right now. We just shouldn't have him helping out on every single case. Plus you are way too obsessed with him. I know it's hard not to play with your shiny new toy, but come on Dean."

Dean hates to admit it but Sam is right. He just really enjoys getting another person around, and essentially getting the walkthrough on what they're hunting has made this job a lot more enjoyable. After 40 years in Hell it's been nice to have it easy for a while. Not have to get as stressed and paranoid as they used to, take a day or two off here and there, he's even started hoping that they can take an extended vacation of sorts at Bobby's.

"I'm just sayin' Sam, it's been four days and we're just chasing our tails at this point. Bet he could figure it out in a few hours if we ask nicely," Sam rolls his eyes at that, "and I do mean  _we_  Sammy. He thinks you hate him."

"I don't hate hi-"

"Then stop being a bitch! We have an angel on our side. It'd be best to keep him on our side."

Sam mutters under his breath and goes back to drinking his coffee, glaring into the bottom of the mug like it had just smacked him across the face. Leave it to the bitch to be a bitch. But, it would be even worse if his own brother wasn't on his side.

"Ok fine, we'll give it another day. After that I'm calling our trump card."

Sam glances up through his lashes quickly then looks away, "Yea ok, fair enough," he makes a small grimace that disappears as soon as he makes it. Clearly he doesn't think it's fair, but at least is accepting Dean's compromise. "I'll look through the notes again, I'm sure I've been missing something."

"Huh, yea you do that nerd. I'm going to enjoy me some of that pie that's been calling my name while I wait," Dean says, mouth already watering at the sight of a perfect cherry pie on the counter. He waves over the curvy little waitress to get a slice while Sam pulls out his notebooks and begins reading.

He's halfway through a truly fantastic food experience and contemplating the waitress' phone number he got when Sam slams down his pencil and looks up wild eyed.

"We've been...I'm an idiot...how did we miss this?" he demands before plowing on into an explanation without waiting for Dean to respond, "We couldn't figure this out because there are  _always_ organs missing from the victims, but we were focusing on things that just go after general organs. We didn't take into account that they might be covering their tracks by taking ones they didn't want! Now, each victim is missing different organs, but there's one that is  _always_  missing in all of them, the brain. But also they were all really pale and looked kind of, drained? Ok so what would want anything to do with the brain and drain people?"

Sam's looking at him expectantly and Dean stares back with a blank look. Past simple ghosts and the like he's not that good with mythological anything. That's what Dad's journal's for, looking up the weird stuff. But he'll throw Sam a bone if that's what it takes, "I don't know, maybe the aliens from  _Mars Attacks_?"

Sam huffs a little but is too excited to be deterred, "No Dean, a kitsune. We haven't seen one in a while, they usually stay pretty well hidden. I wonder if this is a tailed one, that'd be a fun change. Finally get a good challenge!"

Dean stares at Sam in disbelief, "Why on earth would it be a kitsune? There has to be, like, 20 other things that want brains."

"Yea but remember that security guard we talked to? He said he saw blue flames out in the factory. That must be fox fire!"

"Or...he was high," Dean reasons. The guard had been pretty stoned when they talked to him so they'd written off anything he'd said.

"No I'm sure Dean. We need to start searching for who it is and how to kill them. It'll most likely be a woman. I'll pull up the list," Sam says as he digs out the laptop to begin more research. "Ok so kitsune are afraid of dogs and will show their tails if they're drunk. Shouldn't be too hard to get the two women on this list to go out with us for an evening."

"Even if you're wrong I could use a good night out. You've been having all the fun lately," he slaps down a few bills and collects his stuff, "you comin'? Want to get a good nights rest in if we'll be out late tomorrow."

* * *

"I've fucking  _told_  you a hundred times, we can this without the angel!" Sam bellows from the passenger seat, alcohol loosening his tongue. If Dean had any less restraint he would give him a punch in the arm for the tone and damn superior attitude, but he'd rather keep Baby on the road, and truth be told he'd had one or two too many at the bar. The plan with the girls had worked well, but Sam had ruined it by dragging them out the minute the small mousey girl's eyes started flashing red and  _three_  fucking tails began flickering in and out of visibility.

"Congratulations Sam, you found out what's killing folks, but do you have any idea on how to stop a kitsune without some Shinto blessed stake?"

That certainly put a stop to most of the chest puffing Sam's been doing, but he's still smirking like the cat that ate the canary. "I'm sure we'll get that figured out. Call Bobby and see if he knows of anyone in the area that has one."

"Seriously? Do you know how far fetched that is? Even if some one does we don't have time-"

"Don't have time? Dean there hasn't been a single killing since we got here. I doubt we'll have to act that quickly. We can wait if we have to." They've arrived back at their motel and Sam hops out, a skip in his step that hadn't been there for a few weeks.

"Spoiled brat. Has to have everything his way," Dean grumbles while he locks up the car and shuffles into the little motel room. Sam's disappeared into the bathroom so he flops down on the bed he claimed and lays there for a minute while the alcohol makes his head spin a little. The sound of the toilet flushing and bathroom door opening announce that Sam has come back in the room, and he can practically feel the pride radiating off his little brother.

"Should I call him now or in the morning?" Sam asks.

"Who?" Dean turns his head over to give Sam an annoyed and confused face. He'd been a minute or two away from sleep.

"Bobby, about the stake we'll need."

Oh yes, of course, because that's a pressing matter. Dean can't find it in himself to care much right now, sleep beckoning him to just close his eyes and drift off. "Don't care Sam, just...do whatever, an' wake me up in the morning."

Sam chuckles as he grabs his phone from the table, "Such an old man already? Can't party anymore?"

"Shut up bitch," Dean slurs out, sleep already taking him. So what if he's not much of a partier anymore? Hell has a way of sucking your taste for that kind of stuff right out of you. Sleep and relaxing, now that's the kind of life he could use. With a last thought about calling Cas in the morning for his help and a barely registered sound of 'Jerk' from Sam he drifts off.

* * *

"Dean! Fucking come  _on_  man!"

"Whathoware. Sam?" Dean mumbles, swinging wildly about himself anticipating an attack.

"Dean I've been trying to get you up for hours, now come on, we need to go take care of that fox," Sam says while slamming things about. He's scowling around at everything and moving jerkily.

Dean glances at the clock, already 10 am, and shoves up into a sitting position while he orients himself. The hangover he was expecting to have isn't even there, but the sudden wake up didn't do much for his thought processing. He watches Sam packing up their duffles for a few minutes before noticing the new item in the room. "Where the hell did you get a stake already?"

Sam glances over at the wooden stake resting on his bed then goes back to his packing, "Called Bobby but apparently no one around here would have what we need. He suggested calling Cas too, so I had the angel pick it up for us overnight."

That certainly woke Dean right up, "You  _what?_  You were literally yelling at me for suggesting that last night."

"Yea well Bobby had a few things to say about it. And it was pretty fast too." Sam is pointedly avoiding looking at Dean, keeping his head down while he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"The hell kind of speech did Bobby give you to change your mind?" Dean whispers to himself. He can vividly remember the speeches he himself has gotten over the years from Bobby. Each and every one was deserved and had the desired effect. It's the reason he stopped smoking cigarettes when he had just turned 18, the reason he went and got Sam from college. In fact, most every difficult conversation he needed to have was through Bobby. John didn't really have time for much other than giving orders.

Sam comes back out and shoves his bathroom bag into his duffle while Dean's finishing getting dressed, "Think we should take care of this sooner rather than later, that girl will hopefully be sleeping in with as much as she drank last night."

"Yea ok," Dean stomps into his boots and sits on the edge of his bed to lace them up.

"Want to stick around here for a while after or head out?"

With a grunt Dean stands up and searches around for his keys, "Doesn't matter much to me, but looks like you've already packed us to leave. Now come on, let's not wait all day."

Sam gives him a searching look then follows him out the door, "The hell has your panties in a wad today?"

"They're not-! I'm fine Sam," he throws open the door to the Impala and gets in.

"You don't have a hangover or anything, right? Cause Cas took care of that when he was here."

"Seriously? The dude was actually in our room and messed with me, and you  _didn't wake me up_. That's so creepy." Dean clenches his jaw and backs out of the parking space. It's one thing for Sam to get help from Cas, but another to invite the guy over while he's  _sleeping_  for God's sake.

"What? Are you gonna pout about it all day?"

"I am not pouting!" Dean says a little louder than he intended to.

Sam huffs and the sides of his mouth turn up in a little smile. "You totally are."

"No! It's just weird."

"I didn't let him bad touch you so don't-"

"Fucking drop it Sam or I swear to God all of your pants will find themselves burned!" Dean yells at him while Sam laughs hysterically.

After a few minutes Sam settles back down and smiles over at Dean, "Ok man, I'm sorry. It does sound weird, I'll give you that. But you were drunk, so I didn't want to wake you up. Plus it only took him 5 minutes to get the damn thing," he reaches back for the stake, "And it was his idea to 'cleanse' you, or whatever he called it. I don't think he approves of drunkenness."

Dean grumbles to himself but lets it go. There's far worse that could have been done than simply taking alcohol out of his system. And besides Sam had been there. Still, it feels weird for them to have been hanging out without him.

By now they've gotten a few blocks away from the kitsune's house and pull over to get the plan in order, so Dean pushes his annoyance, which is  _not_  jealousy, out of his mind for the hunt.

* * *

_I apologize for the weird leave off point...the next section will be long as well, so there wasn't a good place to stop :/_


	8. Chapter 8

"Cas! Come on, it's movie night!" Dean says to the heavens. He's got popcorn and beer situated on the little motel table and this place has pay per view movies. He's been setting up 'men's night' with Cas whenever Sam is out having his 'boy nights'. Sam hasn't lost his taste for drinking and women, so he can go enjoy himself while the  _men_  have respectable hang out time. At least he always comes back energized and ready to hunt. And sometimes with pie. But the kid deserves to have some fun, the case they'd been working on here is finished. Just a vengeful spirit problem, nothing they couldn't handle on their own.

A soft breath of air comes through the room as Cas shows up, jacket folded over his arm and eyes bright, "Hello Dean. What will we be watching today?"

"Hmm I was thinkin' Terminator? It's a classic and they have it on the list," he says, settling into a chair and picking up the remote.

They've been steadily working their way through Dean's favorite movies, much to Sam's chagrin. He'd rather be hunting 24/7 if he had a say. Apparently taking time in life to educate a friend isn't worthy of hunting less, but he shut up about that after he got to pick his own favorite for Cas to watch.

Star Wars was two weeks ago when Sam was with them during that tornado. They'd been stopped in Oklahoma, in the middle of a hunt when the storms rolled in. And at least Sam had seen eager to watch with Cas, who was blown away by 'humans interpretation of space and alien races' but had declined to comment further. Sam had begged him to tell everything he knew about it, but 'humanity is not prepared for that discussion'. Minority Report and The Shining had been the week before that, and the entire thing had of course started with the western a little over a month ago.

The more he gets Cas to hang out and talk the closer their group has gotten. Or at least, he and Cas are close. And since he's obviously close with his brother, it completes the circle, even if Sam is still holding back from Cas. But they're getting along better now.

Cas has taken his seat and is regarding the popcorn warily with a barely there head tilt as Dean starts the movie. True to form Cas watches with an intensity that makes Dean cringe in sympathy for the TV. He busies himself with stuffing his face and explaining once again that the majority of the movie is fantasy, there isn't really a robotic man from the future. He wonders how Cas will take Harry Potter when Sam finally gets another say in the movies. Pretty sure he wants to be out of the room for that discussion.

They are just past halfway through the movie when Dean glances over at Cas and feels the blood in his body stutter to a halt. The angel is watching with tears in his eyes, and as Dean watches one falls and makes a wet track down a stubbly cheek. He reaches over to put a reassuring hand on Cas's shoulder but stops with his hand over the table when he realizes what he's doing. Blue eyes flick over to him...

_He remembers those same blue eyes overflowing with silent tears, the whites gone pink and heavy brows drawn tightly together, looking down towards him._

...and hold his gaze for what feels like several minutes, but is really only a fraction of a second before he breaks the eye contact and looks forward. He's never seen that much emotion from Cas. In fact, he hasn't seen much beyond a few half smiles and anger. But wait no, he has, or maybe that was just a memory from one of his dreams. But he's sure there hasn't been one with Cas crying,  _that_  he would remember.

Neither says anything as the movie continues. Dean plays that moment over and over in his head, trying to dissect out the reason that Cas would be that moved, it's not as though he picked a particularly heart wrenching movie. And why does he remember that odd moment he'd somehow forgotten and yet can't place.

As it draws to a close and the credits roll he clears his throat then lamely states, "Pretty good movie, right?"

Silence from the other side of the table. Then a small sigh, "Yes, it was." He ventures another look over at Cas and is relieved to see that he's composed himself and is now regarding the opposite wall with a thoughtful expression. "It was sad. The man knew he needed to save her, knew her from the beginning, but she wasn't aware of how he already felt."

"Yea well...I guess I always focused on all the fighting when I watched it. The love story was just kinda there for girls who get dragged along to see it with their boyfriends," Dean mumbles, not wanting to admit that he's always found the ill-fated lovers story touching as well. "Just remind me to never let you watch The Notebook, ok?"

Cas flicks his eyes over to Dean and scrunches up his face in confusion, "What would be particularly interesting about a notebook? Are those not for writing...notes...in?"

Sam comes bursting in through the door amid Dean's fit of laughter while Cas sputters half-sentences, more confused than he'd been before asking his honest question. "You two having a good time? Given each other pedicures and the like?" Sam sneers with just enough sarcasm to not be insulting. He always does come back from his night's out a little bit bitchy and blissed out. Cas makes a displeased face as Sam brushes by him.

"Oh shut it Samantha. We watched Terminator, I think Cas liked it."

"It was quite enjoyable," Cas mutters while eyeing Dean suspiciously, "Though I am curious as to why Dean is hesitant to show me this 'Notebook'," he threw up air quotes at the end in order to make his skepticism obvious.

"Haha well Dean, why don't you? Would be a great date night," Sam laughs as he empties his pockets on the nightstand then heads for the bathroom to brush his teeth. Damn little brothers mouthing off. Cas is clearly contemplating what was said and is avoiding looking at Dean with an unsure expression. Sarcasm is almost always lost on the angel.

"Whatever. You have a good time out?" Dean asks, trying to change the subject.

"Yea it was good," Sam slips off his button down to get ready for bed, already past midnight, time must have gotten away from Dean. He snatches up the empty beer bottles and turns to put them in the bin, then he sees the deep hickey that had been hidden by Sam's collar.

"Sammy you sly dog, looks like you had a  _great_  night," he smirks with an exaggerated wink. Sam turns a shade of pink and ducks his head.

Apparently Dean isn't the only one noticing the bruise, "Sam, who hurt you? I thought there was no longer a case in this town-"

"It's a hickey Cas. It's from kissing," Sam snaps, getting more embarrassed by the second.

"I was not aware that kissing would result in physical p-"

"The fun kind can Cas! And looks like Sammy here found a feisty one for the evening," Dean's cheshire grin gets deeper by the second. Embarrassing his two favorite people at once is a dream come true. As Cas's eyes widen in understanding he shuffles a little in his seat, trying to look anywhere but the two brothers. Sam just groans and face plants onto his bed to hide from the teasing.

"How does one go about," Cas stops awkwardly, thinking before he continues, "go about kissing to result in that?"

Before Dean can halt that train of conversation Sam lifts his head, a maniacal grin on his face directed at Dean, "Maybe Dean can show you on next 'man's night'."

Cas stays still as Dean wallops Sam over the head with a pillow, "What the hell is your problem!? You're sick, you know that? Quit joking around like that, going to confuse the poor guy." Sam continues giggling into the covers, though mutters something about having had too much to drink.

"It is late. I should let you two rest," Cas says stiffly, breezing past Sam's comment, and rises to leave. He steps over toward the door then turns back to Dean, "Perhaps, if I may make my own suggestion, we could watch Ocean's Eleven?"

Deans eyebrows raise in surprise, "Yea man, I'll let you know next time I see it's on or something. It's one of my favorites."

"I know it is," Cas says then quickly flushes and looks away with startled eyes. "Until next time then."

Dean forgets to listen for the small rush of air from Cas leaving, busy trying to remember when he'd mentioned the movie to Cas. They'd talked about plenty of things over the months now, must have just slipped his mind. That or the angel is mind reading, which is  _not_  a pleasant thought. His mind is the one thing he didn't have to share with everyone, damn angels can stay out.

"Wanna head out in the morning Sam?"

A muffled grunt of agreement is all he gets back. Poor kid must be worn out from his evening, certainly seems blissed enough from it. Dean finishes getting ready then crawls into his own twin bed himself, curling around his pillows and blankets for warmth and comfort.

* * *

He's up and ready by 9 the next morning. The other bed is empty when he turns over. Sam's probably been up for a while then, if he even slept, and should be back from his morning jog any minute now.

He goes out to grab breakfast for them while he waits and gives Bobby a call for some leads.

"Well I haven't heard much from out your way, but I got a possible wendigo out in Utah."

"Utah? Bobby we're in Iowa, that's a good two days trip. Anything closer?" He turns down the street that leads to the motel.

"Sorry princess, but things have been quiet. Why? Sam still bustin your balls to get working?" Bobby grumbles.

"Not yet, but give him a few days and he will. Honestly, I don't get why he's so damn excited to hunt. Before I...was gone, he was happy to spend time hanging around together. But now..." Dean sighs and pulls into a parking spot outside their door, "Was he like this when I was gone?"

Bobby is quiet for a few moments then sighs on the other end of the line, "He wasn't much of anything for a while, but around month two he got real restless. Started calling for leads all the time and moved around a lot. I thought it was just him distracting himself but now..." Another sigh, "Who knows Dean, maybe he just found some inspiration."

Not likely but Dean doesn't mention it. They both know that Sam's changed since the Hell incident. He'd put off talking to Sam about it much past 'it was bad, I'm back, now let's move on' and Sam hadn't shared much about how he'd spent his time. Maybe it was time for one of those heart to hearts Sam has always been fond of. "Yea well he's certainly inspired...if that's the word for it. At least he's less of a dick to Cas now."

"You still all butt hurt over him being short with your angel?" Bobby growls out.

"What? Why does everyone have to say he's  _mine_? He's a team member, he's not anyone's. And anyways what the hell's that supposed to mean?" He bites out at the old hunter. Seriously, these jokes are getting old fast, pretty sure they're working together to annoy him now.

"Boy I'm just screwin with ya, don't get all pissy on me. Just head to Utah and tell me when you get there. You  _do_  have a job to do, you're not just entertaining angels."

Dean mumbles a little to himself about old bastards and useless brothers then speaks up, "Where in Utah? Kind of a big state."

* * *

Sam is in the shower when he comes in with the bag of food and starts to do a little pre-hunt research. There isn't much that's surprising about the case. Looks like a typical wendigo or wild animal hanging out in the mountains around Tahoe. Lots of campers reporting weird bears attacking in the night, and even one death. He scrolls through the news sites and absently eats his breakfast while waiting for Sam to finish.

"Oh good, you're back, hey I was thinking about heading out-"

"Way ahead of you Sammy. Bobby has a job for us out in Utah. We'll leave in 20." He snaps the laptop closed and starts packing up. The sooner they can get on the road and finish the new case the better. He's ready for some down time.

"Sounds good, what are we looking at this time?" Sam asks, starting to pack his bag.

"Looks like a wendigo or something like it. News reports seem solid."

They pack in silence for a few moments and then Sam stops to wolf down his breakfast. He pauses between bites and watches Dean working around the room. "Dude could you not stare at me? I'm just packing."

"You're upset about something. Is it what I said last night or-"

"Drop it Sam. Let's just get on the road and get on with it." He throws a shirt into his bag and scoops up the one full of extra supplies. He's halfway to the door when he notices Sam hasn't moved. "The hell man? Get a move on!"

Sam scrunches his face up a little, a complicated mixture of confusion, concern, and annoyance. "Yea ok, I'm comin'."

"Good. Cause we have to stop on the way out of town at the liquor store. Utah's too dry and I need to restock." A sigh from behind follows him out the door.

* * *

"God fucking dammit!" Dean bellows, throwing his gun in the trunk and slamming it shut. Useless goose chase jobs like this one piss him off. Because  _of course_  they drove all the way to Bumfuck, Utah for this and  _of course_  it turns out to be something ridiculous like a  _tiger_  and  _of course_  Cas won't answer his calls! Not fair for that much to go wrong all at once.

And Sam's laughter isn't alleviating his mood at all. "Haha, I'm sorry, but can we please put this one in the journal? This is just too good! Haha! Tiger in the loose in Utah..." Sam's doubled over trying to catch his breath to say more, but each time he comes close another laughing fit takes him.

"Yea hilarious Sam. I'm going to give Bobby a piece of my mind later. How the  _hell_  did he think this was a wendigo? Damn rich people and their expensive pets." If the owner of the exotic animal hadn't already met his death via teeth and claws to the neck he'd go finish the guy off himself. It's a whiskey night if there ever was one. He huffs and drops down into the drivers seat, "At least you got something out of this. Think you'll call her?"

Because once again his dumb floppy haired little brother got the girl. Some animal rights activist who had come to protest the exotic pets the victim had owned. Tina, or whatever her name is, and her hippy friends were staying at the same motel too, and she'd latched onto Sammy within 10 minutes of arriving. At least she has a nice ass, he'll let it slide.

"Either that or just walk a few doors down," Sam laughs from the back of the car, "Might be good to enjoy this mood while it lasts!"

"Yea well she looked kinda upset about the whole 'tiger killed a bunch of people so now it's been put down' thing. But hey, if that's your in then I'm not going to judge you."

"I can flash some sad eyes for a while, never been a problem before," Sam says with a cocky smile, sliding into the car next to Dean.

A few hours later Sam closes the door behind him, stupid grin still plastered in place from joking with Dean about the girl he was going to the other end of the motel to see. He heads that way but a soft breath of air from behind stops him two doors down. Damn it.

"Castiel. What brings you to our neck of the woods?" He says with little enthusiasm, turning to face the insufferably calm angel. "What? No 'Hello Sam.' for me?"

"Dean invited me to spend time together in a few minutes. I thought I would greet you while I had the chance," Castiel says, straightening even more, if possible, at the mention of his brother. Almost like he's full of pride at how much attention Dean gives him.

"Yea I figured he'd call down his security blanket," he mutters. Though what for he's unsure, looked like the bottle of Jim Beam had been doing plenty of comforting when he left.

Castiel's eyes squint up a little and quickly flash to somewhere behind him before going back to him, "I believe our time spent together brings him comfort, if that is what you mean. There is much he is reluctant to talk to you about. Just as there is much you will not tell him."

Sam's shoulders square up a bit, drawing his height to full advantage over the significantly shorter angel. He's always disliked the way Castiel stares at him, like he can read every diseased line etched in his veins, and he doesn't even have the decency to get angry about it or tattle to Dean. He just  _knows_  and never does anything about it. It keeps him on edge, and that paranoid fear is something he hates more than just about anything. The worst part is that Castiel isn't even half bad. Hell, if things were different he'd like the guy. However, as they stand, it just isn't going to work for them to be friends. Allies, sure. But that's where the line is drawn.

"Well that's the Winchester way, keep things in til you can't. Welcome to the family."

"I do..." Castiel looks down, inspecting the cracked concrete of the motel sidewalk, "Do want to be a part of the family. Dean told me much so much about you, and your parents, and Bobby. I know how much you all mean to him."

"Look, Cas, we basically just met you. And if Dean wants to gush about everything to you, that's his thing, but it's going to take longer than 6 months for me." Or maybe never. Depending on how some things go.

They stand in silence for a couple heartbeats while Castiel shuffles around, a vaguely spaced out look in his eyes, "Dean is calling me now," he returns an intense gaze to Sam, "I do wish that I could help you Sam. There is much that I could do to-"

"I'm good. Just going to hang out with the new girl we met here." Sam breaks eye contact, glaring over at the Impala and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Go have a good date with Dean or whatever the hell you two do."

The widened eyes and slight pink flush are worth the low dig. It's painfully obvious how attached he is to Dean, and if the reactions he gets to comments like that mean anything there's probably something behind it. But knowing his brother, the poor little guy's going to be dealing with those emotions for forever.

Castiel searches the immediate area with his eyes, probably looking internally for an answer that would be emotionless and appropriate. If he could like the guy it'd be endearing how lost he looks, but as things stand it's just infuriating how naive he is. With a sneer he turns away from the angel, off to get his treat for the week.

* * *

With a quick farewell Cas flies off, apparently he has been working on bringing more support to his 'I want to hang with the Winchesters' cause, so he's off to make a voluntary appearance in Heaven. His superiors will appreciate the gesture, or something.

Dean's left smiling to himself at nothing in particular, just happy and relaxed. And maybe a little drunk, but so what, he deserves it. The bust job hadn't even been stressful, not when he really reflects, it was mostly the weirdness of this thing with Cas that had him all wound up. He can't figure out what the angel wants or gets out of this. And the comments from Bobby and Sam are not helping.

I mean, they're hanging out. Beers, movies, swapping hunting stories, Cas shares about the little bits of help he gives to worthy humans, the whole nine yards of it. And he's...well, if he admits it he's thoroughly enjoying it. Been quite a while since they got a new face around their group of friends, and he hasn't felt that instant snap into place with them like he has Cas. It's like the guy knows exactly what he needs to hear and is still so adorably innocent and confused about everything. But it almost seems like this is an entirely different thing for Cas. Less friends, more...well, something more.

He laughs a little to himself as he moves around the room, picturing Cas's face when the reveal happened in the movie. He'll have to wait to show him Ocean's but this place had The Sixth Sense on and he couldn't resist blowing the angel's mind.

He's pulling down the covers when he notices the tan lump at the end of his bed. With a big sigh he lets the blankets fall half pulled down and regards the trench coat with a blend of emotions he doesn't feel like separating out right now, that'd take too much brain power that the whiskey's sapped away. The coat is lying there, carefully placed towards the end in the corner. Dean shuffles over to inspect.

How was Cas so careless as to leave this behind? He's always so particular about everything he does; not a word, muscle flinch, or hair out of place. Though he'd been pretty sloppy when they found him, that's even  _how_  they'd found him. Sending out tells to hunters everywhere, it's a good thing he hadn't attracted less openminded men to his little church.

He moves to pick up the coat but the second he touches it he freezes.

A vague memory fills his mind, the sights, sounds, and colors all blurred and mixed together. Like a dream he once had but now can't recall. The feel of the coat under his hand, between his fingers as he grabbed it. Flashing blue and green lights from behind him where he could sense an opening of some kind. Maybe a door?

He can't quite remember Cas's face, it was just above where he was looking, instead he was staring at the blue tie while clinging to the coat. But the tie wasn't entirely blue, was it? No it was mottled for some reason, like Cas had been out in the rain.

Tears, it hits him, those were tears staining the fabric. He concentrates harder, forcing his mind to remember, and yes there it is, he remembers seeing a few tears fall and quickly soak in.

But that's it. That's all he can piece together, just those vague few moments. He looks back down at the coat he's clutching and realizes he's started crying, a couple wet splotches marring the tan fabric. Not outright bawling, not even sniffling, just some tears welling over.

He takes a shuddering breath and looks away at the other end of the room. The hell is going on? The last time he had weird visions and memories was just before finding Cas. But they'd stopped since. Right? The dreams have continued happening, but nothing during waking hours. Maybe it's time to stop drinking. Or maybe time to drink more.

Cautiously he sets the coat over on the other side of the bed and climbs under the covers. He flicks off the bedside light and stares at the lump of fabric in the dark as the room spins slightly.

Yea, it's the whiskey. For sure. Maybe he should ask Cas to come 'cleanse' him or whatever before sleep. No, he needs some courage pumping through him if he's going to sleep after that episode. It's not a seizure, right? He slips off to sleep slowly, mind wandering aimlessly from scenario to scenario until it's too tired from the drink to try.

 _Bang._  "Time to go Dean! Get your ass out of-," Sam yells coming into the room. Dean jerks awake and glares up at his brother. Who's giving him one hell of a disgusted face for God knows what reason. "Please tell me Cas didn't sleep over. Or isn't going to come out of the bathroom naked. Please."

"The hell are you going on about?" Dean asks before really looking around himself, taking a moment to process. It would seem that he grabbed onto the trench coat during the night, and now has it pulled into his chest. "Uh..." he eloquently tries to start.

"Oh my God you didn't, did you? Oh God no," Sam stammers, looking equal parts shocked and nauseas.

"No! Dude! I can...I can explain this," he blurts out, "He isn't here, left last night and forgot his coat. I swear to God Sam."

Sam visibly deflates and lets out a shaky hollow sounding laugh as he fully enters the room. "Thank God, that was the most terrifying moment I've had in a while. Can't believe I actually thought you bedded Cas!"

"Ugh gross dude! That's just... How could you thi...Ugh I didn't need that image in my mind!" he stutters, scrambling out of bed and running to hide in the bathroom. Sam's laughter follows him, and he slams the door against it. Goddamn fucking little brothers and their sick thoughts. Like he'd ever do anything with Cas or  _any_  man for that matter! And...oh great now he's imagining it.  _Fuck_. "Dammit Sam! The hell's wrong with you!" He bellows through the closed door. More muffled laughter follows.

He brusquely turns on the shower, hoping to drown out the thoughts now popping up in his head. He sets the temperature on cold for good measure to cool off the hangover he's starting to feel now that the adrenaline from being jarred awake is fading. The icy water helps drown out the bizarre images his mind keeps supplying as well. Hard to think about much other than freezing.

Washed off and more settled he goes back out to confront Sam. "Scared me half to death, you know that? You can't do that to me," he runs a hand through his hair, trying to make it presentable.

"If it's so gross then let go of the thing. It's not a security blanket Dean."

Oh yea, he's still holding the coat. Must have taken it into the bathroom with him. But Sam's not half wrong, it is comforting to have it close, reminds him that the angel can come save them at any moment if need be. Well not save, more like help, Winchester's don't need saving. He drapes it over the back of the chair in the corner, "Shut up. I'm just half asleep and hung over because  _someone_  woke me up yelling!"

Sam's face shows he doesn't buy the posturing, but thankfully he stays quiet on the subject. "Wanna stick around here for a few days or ship out?"

"Let's head out, but don't go rushing into another job. I'm up for just stopping when we feel like it. Plus, we could stand to get some money along the way."

"Wanna hit up that rich guy's house on the way out of town? He didn't have anyone listed on the death certificate, doubt a few things would be missed," Sam says with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. They didn't usually stoop to stealing, but the guy had been kind of a dick. Kind of have to be to keep exotic pets in the middle of Utah.

"Why Sammy I believe that's the best idea you've had in months," he smirks, "I bet there's plenty hidden away in there."

They pack leisurely and make a stop at the McDonalds along the road to the now abandoned mansion. They only take a few things; two paintings, a set of knives, and three nice watches. The place is full of expensive pieces, more than enough for whoever gets the estate. Bobby gives them the info for places to sell them that won't ask too many questions. By the time they make it into Beaver, about 3 hours South, their wallets are padded with $7600.

Enjoying the sudden income they treat themselves to a real hotel for the night and Sam promptly takes off for the nearest bar to celebrate with some local help. Dean considers joining him, but he honestly is in more of a mood for a good bottle of whiskey and some alone time. Alone time in which he plans to thoroughly enjoy the nice shower and movie channels. Dealing with a tipsy giggly Sam at a bar just doesn't sound enjoyable, especially with all the teasing he's been getting lately from  _sober_  Sam.

He makes the quick trip to the liquor store for a near top shelf bottle. No need to go all out on the splurging, but anything better than Jack Daniels. The music blasting on the radio during the drive back is exactly to his taste, and he's starting to get excited for his night in.

Once back he slumps down into the puffy hotel chair and takes a few swigs while putting together a game plan for his evening. First things first, a good shower. Bringing the bottle with him he goes into the spacious bathroom and starts running the water. There's even a tub in this place, and he briefly toys with the idea of a bath, but decides against it. The bottle of whiskey goes on the back of the toilet within easy reach as he strips down and gets in.

The water makes a hollow sound as it beats into his back, slowly loosening up tense muscles. He'd usually spend showers like this singing to annoy Sam or for his own enjoyment, but tonight he just doesn't feel like it. Although the silence  _is_  oppressive. It weighs on him and makes him hyper aware of the way his emotions are scratching at the back of his mind. It's like he's worn out, stretched too thin, and all he wants to do is curl up in bed for the next few weeks.

No, fuck this mood, Dean Winchester should never be this morose. He pulls back the curtain to grab the bottle and takes a drink, enjoying the burn of the alcohol in combination with the hot water. Maybe a little more whiskey will loosen up his mind just like the hot water is doing wonders for his back.

He scrubs down quickly as the alcohol works through his system and in no time his mind is pleasantly fuzzy. Turning the water slightly cooler he gets his feet planted under the spray facing the wall, his back to the curtain. Might as well enjoy the alone time to the fullest. He props his weight against the wall with one arm, the other sliding down his stomach and loosely grasping his soft cock. He searches his mind for the proper imagery as he gives himself teasing strokes, getting his body on board with things. There was that one waitress a few years back that gave him the ride of his life, that's a pleasant enough memory to rub one out to.

He sets to work, remembering that evening as best as he can, filling in memory gaps with imagined bites and touches, feeling small waves of arousal roll over him. God that girl'd been gorgeous. All flowing black hair and just the right side of full figured. He sinks into the memory now, hand stroking faster, a quick pump of soap to help ease the way. He bites his lip as he thinks about the way her eyes had gone wide when he thrust up hard, such a gorgeous deep blue color. Almost as blue as Cas's... _fuck, no_  dammit.

He slows his stroking, taking a second to reorganize his thoughts. Maybe jacking off with whiskey in his veins was a dumb idea, his mind is too easily distracted. But he'd been getting into it, no stopping at this point. He can always turn on the fancy porn channels if he really can't focus.

Back to the girl, yea just focus on that. He flexes his free hand against the wall, trying to remember the feel of putting his hand to her breasts. The overlying softness and yet how firm they were, a perfect handful. Mmm what a sweet memory it is, he licks his lips and lets out panting breaths as he feels the tension in his balls rising. Just a little bit further to go, no random thoughts of Cas will distract him now... _dammit_.

But it's too late, the orgasm crashes through him as he growls in disappointment at how he'd lost focus at the last second. The usual satisfying feeling of his entire body lit up in pleasure turned to a fizzling reaction. Goddammit the hell kind of person thinks of their  _male_  best friend while jerking one out? Alcohol. That's why. His cock gives a last final spurt and he kicks out in frustration at how monumentally stupid his mind is.

Of course, kicking with orgasm weak legs while in a shower while drunk goes as well as one would imagine. He loses his balance and slips sideways in the shower, banging his head hard into the spigot on the way down.

Several minutes go by as Dean lies on the floor of the shower, groaning, water continuing to pelt down on him. He swears a few times under his breath and props himself up on his hands, face a deep shade of red in his embarrassment. And...of fucking course, he's bleeding to top it all off. Thin bands of red streak through the water as it goes down the drain. He watches it as he collects his thoughts, the sharp pain from the cut finally cutting through the daze from the fall.

He shakily gets up and shuts off the water, grumbling as he scrambles out carefully and goes to inspect his bleeding head. A decent gash extends from just above his right eyebrow to the middle of his temple, a steady stream of blood running from it. With an annoyed sigh he grabs one of the small hand towels and holds it to the cut, hoping to slow the bleeding enough to stitch up. It'll leave a nasty scar though. If he called Cas the angel could just heal it in a few  _no no_  not after the whole debacle in the shower.

With another swig of whiskey for good measure he opens up the hotel provided sewing kit and prepares to stitch away. Head wounds are his least favorite to patch up, too much blood flow and if he messes up it'll look terrible. Though his hands shake a little he manages to close up the skin. The alcohol dulled out the pain quite nicely, however it also thinned his blood, causing far more bleeding than typical. With a final snip of the little manicure scissors from the kit he steps back to admire his work.

And nearly cuts his head again on the counter with a full body laugh.

The blue thread he picked out had seemed like such a good idea, but with all the blood it has a sickening appearance weaving in and out of his forehead. And his usual straight stitches are an uneven mess. Well, no helping it now, only one thing to do.

Laughing at how fucked up his life is, he walks into the main room and puts on a pair of sweatpants to get decent, then comes back into the bathroom for the half-empty bottle of whiskey. "Hey Cas, you got your ears on? Need your help with a sewing project, heh," he prays, taking another long pull from the bottle. The soft whoosh of air announcing Cas's arrival comes from the other room just as he plops down on the edge of the tub. "In here man!"

The angel, sans tan overcoat, glides into the doorway and quickly assesses the room when he sees the poorly stitched gash. Seeing no danger he approaches and gives the cut a scrutinizing look. "I assume these poorly executed sutures are the project you mentioned."

Dean gives a slightly hysterical chuckle. "No shit dude, you think I meant for this to look so awful?"

"Were you on a hunt?" Cas asks as he gently tilts Dean's head with a hand on his jaw to more closely examine the wound, "Sam should have helped you with this."

"No hunting, jus' having a night in and uh, slipped in the shower."

Cas takes a step back and looks him in the eye. Almost immediately his face melts into a disappointed expression. "You have been drinking."

Dean lifts the bottle he's still holding and takes a good drink, holding Cas's gaze as he swallows it and grimaces at the burn, "Yea. What about it?"

The move earns him an honest to God eye roll, who woulda thought Cas could do that, but then the angel goes back to examining his handy work. He stares down at the bottle in his hand, his body floating with the alcohol. It feels like they stay this way for hours while Cas looks him over, but then again his perception is slightly off.

"It would be best to get the sutures out before I heal this." Cas says, turning to the counter to get the small scissors. Dean just grunts his agreement and tries to hold still while Cas cuts at the thread. Apparently he isn't doing a good job of that either cause Cas's hand is suddenly there on his shoulder holding him steady. And huh, his hand's about the same size as that scar he's brushing against.

"Alright, they're out. You really did a poor job Dean. This is not something you should do while intoxicated," Cas lectures.

"Yea well, Sam's out chasin' tail so I do what I can. Besides it's all your damn fault so you owe me," he grumbles. He doesn't need a lecture from a freakin angel about stitches for God's sake, where does he get- oh woah, he's healing now, that feels better. Cas's fingers rest lightly against Deans forehead as he knits together the skin, familiar tingling sensation spreading through the area. With the amount of cuts and injuries he's healed for Dean he's gotten used to the feeling, welcomes it even. As comforting as the kisses Mary used to give him when he'd scrape his knee or bump into something as a child.

Now that he's got his sluggish mind to focus on how his body feels, he probably should have put on a shirt. This is far too intimate of a setup for two men to be in while one of them is half naked. He can feel the heat from Cas's hand on his shoulder and notices that he's leaning into the touch. He pulls back but over corrects and sways in place.

"Dean." Cas sighs, annoyance evident even in that one word.

"Dude you are  _way_  too close for comfort. Ever heard of personal space?" He tries to stand up but nearly topples over again. A firm hand grips his hand to keep him upright. With a small crinkle of his nose Cas brushes his free hand over his cheek and almost instantly his mind is sober and clear. "The fuck man?! Can you stop touching me already?"

Cas turns and leaves the bathroom to go sit in the puffy armchair, giving Dean an annoyed side eye. Dean has no choice but to follow him, walking steady now. Cas looks him over in a way that makes his skin crawl so he digs through his bag for a shirt to throw on. "You know I do not appreciate drunkenness Dean."

"You never had a problem with accepting a drink before Cas, so don't be a hypocrite." He flops down in the chair opposite Cas, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It isn't the drink that is sinful, it is your actions while intoxicated that are. It's possible to enjoy and still be responsible."

"Yea whatever," Dean mumbles under his breath. He'd been having a relaxing time til he had to call the angel for help. Which was a stupid thing to do, but hey he'd been drunk, he didn't always make great choices then. Which kind of furthers Cas's statement as true.

"What did you mean that your injury was my fault?"

Ice shoots through him. He'd forgotten that he mentioned it. He really needs to stop having these heart-stopping moments of anxiety with Cas, it can't be healthy. How the hell can he explain this? 'Sorry man I was jerking off drunk and thought of you?' He doesn't even want to think about that himself, let alone tell the guy about it. Instead he plays up the whole idiot drunk act. "I don't know Cas, I was drunk. Half the shit I say sober doesn't make sense, you think drinking would make me more coherent?"

"I suppose not." Cas says, examining the crease on his pant leg.

Speaking of clothing, "Hey you left your coat last time. Meant to get it back to you." Dean gets up and retrieves the coat from where he'd stored it in his duffle. He'd kept it folded nicely so it wouldn't wrinkle.

Cas takes it from him with a small smile, "Yes, thank you Dean."

"No problem. Glad to get it off my hands, the comments were getting annoying," Dean sits back in his chair and regards the little crease of confusion between Cas's eyebrows.

"What comments?"

"Sam's been mouthing off about us dating or some shit," Cas's eyes widen and color blossoms on his cheeks. Realizing his mistake Dean quickly corrects himself, "But it's just normal little brother stuff. He doesn't mean anything by it!"

He's too late however, Cas is getting up while clutching his coat to his chest like a life preserver in deep water. The blush has spread down to his neck now and disappears beneath the collar of his suit. "I believe it is time for me to leave."

"Cas wait, I just said he's joking, it's not-" he starts, but is interrupted by the door opening and a giggling drunk Sam falling into the room.

"Oops sorry! Am I interrupting a lovers quarrel?" Sam says with a wavering voice, barely containing his laughter.

A sharp intake of breath comes from the angel behind him as Dean tries to take control of the situation on two sides, "Dammit Sam, not now! Stop saying shit like that! And Cas," he rounds on the flustered angel, "Don't fly off angry, you're not understanding this right."

Another round of laughter comes from Sam, "Should I get my own room for tonight Cas?"

Yelling random insults Dean storms over and shoves his little brother out the door and into the hall, "Wait out here I will deal with you later." The door slams behind him as he crosses the room to the mini-fridge and grabs a water bottle. Damn drunk brothers spouting off nonsense at their  _very powerful_  friend. Dude could smite them if he gets pissed enough. He swings the door open again and pelts the water bottle at Sam's head, "And drink something so you don't pass out on me."

Going back to Cas he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Cas has managed to collect his composure and is regarding him with a blank stare. "Ok look. Here's the truth. You left your coat on the bed and I ended up sleeping on it, Sam saw and has been giving me shit about it. And he's drunk right now, so cut him some slack."

"So you don't..." Cas starts, looking unaffected by the small confession, "I understand now. If it would be best, I will resolve to keep my distance from now on to lessen your discomfort at the thought of us 'together'."

"That's..uh," crap where does he want to start with that. There's two  _very_  separate trains of though Cas just threw at him. "I'm not saying don't come around, not at all! I fucking love hanging out, and hunting, and watching movies..." Well that just sounds dumb. He rubs a hand over his hair and rests it in the back of his neck. "And honestly that's not...the reason I'm annoyed by it. You're a cool guy but..." God this is monumentally awkward. How the hell is he supposed to explain this?

"You don't want Sam to get carried away with his joking?" Cas suggests, and thank God for small miracles he seems to be getting something of human interaction for once.

"Yea exactly!" He says with a sigh. They stand avoiding each other's eyes for a few moments. Cas seems to understand and all, but Dean can't help but feel awful about it all. Calls the guy down to heal him then drops all this crap on him? That isn't the way friendship's supposed to be. "How about this, to prove there are  _no_  hard feelings and it's just Sam being stupid, why don't you come with us on the next hunt? You haven't gone on one with us in a while anyways."

Blue eyes light up and meet his, contained joy shining through. He knew that'd interest Cas, he always gets excited to hunt with them. "I think that would be a good idea. What is your next job?"

"Uhh...don't know yet, but I'll let you know as soon as I do. Deal?"

"Deal."

With a final small smile Cas disappears off, leaving Dean to go deal with his drunk brother. Who, of course, took it upon himself to drunk dial while sitting in the hall of the hotel.

"Mkay Bobby, will do. No,  _you_  stay classy. Heh, thanks," Sam says as he closes his phone and takes a gulp of water.

"You called Bobby? Really? He doesn't need to deal with your-"

"I got us a job! Down in Arizona!" Sam springs up, clutching to the wall with a small giggle when he nearly loses his balance.

Dean lumbers forward and grabs ahold of Sam to drag him back in their room. "Ok tell me all about it in the morning then, you need to get some sleep." He pushes him towards his bed and thankfully the giant puppy goes easily and face plants into his pillow. Dean's halfway to the bathroom to clean up from the stitches debacle earlier when Sam starts gleefully shouting.

"Jackalopes Dean! Jackalopes!"

"Keep it down, will you? And the hell are you going on about?" He leans against the door frame as he watches Sam try to undress and crawl under the covers with zero coordination.

"Our next job! Down in Southern Arizona, thersan overpopulation of  _jackalopes_  and Bobby wants sus to deal with it," he says with an attempt at looking serious.

Dean runs a hand over his face and looks to the sky for saving. "Fuck. Me."


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Sam is asleep Dean ducks outside to call Bobby. Not that he doesn't trust his brother, but when he goes drunkenly spouting off shit like 'jackalopes' it's best to check. And the old man was up 15 minutes ago, so figures he's still awake.

He goes out to the parking lot and leans against the Impala while he waits for the call to connect. Bobby wastes no time with idle small talk when he answers, "Please tell me he's passed out by now. Fool boy's too happy of a drunk for his own good."

"Yea I got him in just fine, sleepin it off. But what's this job he was going on about?"

"Got you boys something fun down in Arizona. Worked a job down there years ago for the local wildlife ranger and he called me yesterday needing some help with the jackalope popu-"

"Fucking hell, you mean he was serious about that?! That's the dumbest thing I've ever hear-"

"Listen here boy," Bobby growls, "You keep asking for a break behind Sam's back and I'm givin you one. This'll give him something to do but it's easy. And if you have a problem with it I  _could_  give you the banshee out in Maine."

God Dean doesn't want to make that drive. But the next hunt was supposed to be with Cas and fucking  _jackalopes_  are not cool to show off any skills with. Angel's going to be bored. "Bobby I'd be fine with it any other time but I promised Cas he could go on the next hunt with us."

"Good. You'll have plenty of time sitting in the desert to talk out your little quarrel with him."

Dean groans, Sam must have said something earlier when Dean shoved him out to have a private talk with Cas. "We're fine now, it was a misunderstanding."

"I get it, used to have that all the time with Karen-"

"We aren't together! Damn it can you all just stop saying that?!" Dean yells, remembering that he's outside a hotel at night then lowers his voice, "It's making us both uncomfortable."

"Well ok princess. Don't want to knock your crown too off kilter. All I got to go on is what Sam tells me, and he paints quite a pretty picture," Bobby says, "Now you three get yer asses down to the desert before I strip your hide! And if you don't want people thinking you're with the angel then stop acting like you are." And with that the phone clicks off.

"Ah I'm not...we're not...ugh," Dean grumbles to himself, turning and kicking against the back tire. All this crap about him and Cas is grating on his nerves more and more. It's not like they act any certain way. Acting like it would be staring at each other and spending time alone and...o god that's exactly what they've been doing. Besides, what would that even be  _like?_  Dudes basically a real life Spock, there's little to no emotion there, and he doesn't seem to enjoy physically experiencing much of anything. Well wait no, he's shown interest in trying different things and  _why is he thinking about this._

With a deep huff he storms away from the Impala and nearly sprints up the stairs to their room, trying to run from the thoughts swirling in his head. They wouldn't even  _be_  in his head if Sam and Bobby hadn't put the idea there.

Sam's in a deep sleep when he comes back in the room, audible breathing coming from his bed. Dean wastes no time sitting around, just drops his jeans to the floor and gets in under the covers.

It takes him a long time to settle his mind down and go to sleep, his frustration keeping him up. But slowly he does find sleep. His dreams are shapeless things that flutter out of his reach when he tries to recall them in the morning. All he can discern is that sleep left him with an aching loneliness. However, that only lasts until Sam throws a pillow at his face to get out of the bed and on their way.

* * *

 

"How long you think it'll be to the park?" Sam asks, sounding thoroughly disinterested in anything besides his coffee. Nothing like diner breakfast to settle your body down and replace the gallon of liquid he threw up an hour earlier in the hotel bathroom.

"'Bout a 9 hour drive as long as we don't stop much. There's nothing in the park so we'll stop at Ajo."

Sam makes a giggly little sound, "A-hole? There's a town called asshole?"

"No, it's spanish or something. A-j-o, in Arizona. Closest town to the park."

With a small ruffle of air the angel arrives, taking a seat, "You are correct Dean, it is spanish. The word means 'garlic' and was used instead of the original name of 'o'oho' that was given by the native residents." Cas lectures with a slightly proud look in his eye.

"Yea ok, thanks for the history lesson. Now look-"

"That's kinda an asshole move for the Spanish. I mean, O'oho isn't that hard to say. Does it mean garlic too?" Sam asks, curiosity winning out over his rebelling liver.

"No, it means red, which I believe refers to the red dye they could produce from plants in-"

"Ok enough! If you two keep geeking out when we're trying to plan this the whole deal is off!" Dean thunders, giving the two hard looks for good measure. Seriously, it's hard enough when Sam has moments with himself over research, and now he's got the walking encyclopedia of  _everything_  to fill him in. At least they have the decency to look embarrassed, Sam glaring down into his coffee and Cas bowing his head to hide the small flush of pink on his cheekbones.

"So here's how this is going to work. It's noon now thanks to  _you_ ," he points a finger at Sam, "So we'll head out now and make it there by nightfall. Sound like a good plan?"

"I will meet you there around 10 o'clock then to leave time for-"

"Oh no you don't, you heard me,  _we_  will head out. That includes you," Dean says while arching an eyebrow at the innocent wide eyed look Cas is giving him. Dean's baffled by the mildly lost looking expression. The angel wants to hunt with them then he'll damn well do the job right from beginning to end. He flitted in and out during all the previous ones and this time it's supposed to be special. "Can you deal with that?"

Cas seems confused by his question, creasing his brows a little, "Of course Dean, I'd be honored to travel with you both. I had assumed you wouldn't want me intruding on your car time."

Or you know, the angel wanted to come along in the first place and wasn't pouting but was in awe at the invite. Surprisingly Sam doesn't seem too upset at the idea of Cas tailing along the whole way, though that could be because his greasy hangover cure has finally arrived.

"One question Dean," Cas says, leaning over conspiratorially.

"Yea?"

"Will I be allowed to call shotgun?"

Sam chokes on a bite and Dean nearly pours his coffee down his shirt.

"I apologize, did I call it at the incorrect time?"

* * *

 

They stop to get supplies before leaving town, a long drive ahead of them with little time to stop for meals. Dean's halfway down an aisle when he turns to ask Cas a question, but the words stick in his throat.

There is absolutely no way in Heaven or Hell that an angel should be allowed to look like this. Awkwardly holding a shopping basket in his arms, completely ignoring the handle on the damn thing, with big blue eyes looking all around himself as he follows Dean through the small grocery store. Dean watches in amusement as something catches Cas' eye and he stoops a little to read the label with an intensity most people would reserve for studying law.

"If you want something just throw it in the basket, Cas," Dean calls over to him, grabbing a pack of Swiss Cake Rolls for himself. With a flick of his eyes as acknowledgement Cas picks up the box he was looking at and drops it in. Spongebob shaped Easy Mac. Dean laughs a little under his breath and Cas seems to be about to ask why but an arm coming over his shoulder to put a few bananas into the basket drags his attention away.

"Why'd you get Easy Mac Dean? We can't exactly make it while driving," Sam says, reaching over Cas again to put in more of his picks.

"Cas picked it out. Should be able to make it at the next hotel."

"Since when do you eat Cas?" Sam muses, looking at some of the boxes on the shelf.

"I don't need to eat, but Dean said to put it in the basket."

Sam gives Dean a look, though what exactly he's conveying with it is beyond him. With a small huff he grabs the basket from Cas and turns towards the counter, "If you guys are done let's get going. Got a while to go before Ajo."

"You two finish up, I'll get started on the directions," Sam calls out over his shoulder, heading towards the door.

Cas hesitantly follows Dean to the counter, stopping to read the advertisements for lotteries, cigarettes, and gum. "I don't understand why you humans choose to destroy your bodies in such unclean ways," he starts up.

He couldn't have just left out the 'you humans' could he? Dean rolls his eyes and gives a small shake of his head to the worker who's scanning. She doesn't seem too phased by the ramblings of what she probably assumes is a crazy person. Hopefully Cas is finished with his anecdote and won't go on a full rant. Of course that hope would only work on a  _normal_  person.

"What would be the appeal Dean? From what I understand smoke is not pleasant to inhale. In addition it can-"

"Some people find it relaxing Cas, and you don't have to understand it. Just accept it and move on. We can get a pack if you're so curious." The cashier halts and waits to finish ringing them up, glancing between them to see if they'll add something.

"No, I believe I will pass. You have an aversion to them, and that is enough evidence for me," Cas says, moving over towards the door to wait for Dean to finish paying.

With a nod to the cashier he grabs up their bags and corrals the angel out the door, "How do you I don't like smoking?"

Cas stumbles a small bit, glancing at Dean quickly before picking up speed towards the Impala, "You told me, of course. Have you forgotten?"

"Huh, yea guess I have," Dean mumbles. He's pretty sure they've never discussed that though. He'd remember telling Cas that story, it hadn't been too flattering of John, but was a good lesson and one Sam had learned right along with him. He'd decided to take up smoking around the age of 17, thought it'd look good with his image. Didn't hurt that he looked old enough to get cigarettes without an ID. But of course, ever the following little duck, Sam had begged to try one for long enough that he'd caved in. Problem was Sammy was a shit liar back then, and when John found a stub in the ashtray the kid had confessed right away. They'd had to chain smoke the whole pack til they threw up while John glared at them. To be honest, not his best memory of the man, but it'd been a good lesson that needed to be taught. Can't hunt too well when you're craving a smoke or can't breathe well enough to run.

They load up and pull back out onto the main road, Cas in the backseat since Sam took his place in shotgun. Dean glances back at him occasionally, keeping an eye out to make sure he actually stays and doesn't go flying off. Not that he suspects he would, just wants to make sure.

"Alright well we have two options. Go through Vegas or through Pheonix," Sam says, laying the map down on his lap.

"Vegas?" Dean laughs at the thought, "As much fun as it'd be to take an  _angel_  to Sin City itself, let's save that for another time." Even Sam has to smile at the idea of Cas wandering the streets of Vegas getting propositioned by hookers and getting lost in casinos. With that messy dark hair and innocent bright eyes the working girls would probably eat him alive.

"Why can't we-"

"Another time Cas, promise. That trip will need a whole lot more time than we have now." Dean's already making lists of things to get Cas to experience on that trip. They'll  _have_  to go to a strip club, and Sam'll probably suggest a show of some kind. What about the acrobatic and contortion one? Bet Cas'd get a kick out of how bendy some of those girls are. And to be fair even the men can bend. Wonder if they can bend all the way over and suck their own-.

"Yes, another time I suppose. Sam, could you hand me the map?"

Sam and Cas spend the next few minutes going over the route they are taking, and Sam marks the highways with a red pen so Cas can follow it himself. For something that can freaking teleport he's awfully interested in how to get there by car. But Dean brushes it off, no reason to question what makes the dude happy.

"Ah! We will pass very close to the Grand Canyon. Would it be much trouble to stop and look?" Cas asks conversationally. Dean looks back at him in the mirror, and the slight widening of his eyes as he studies the map give him away.

"Since when are you interested in seeing anything of the world?" Blue eyes shoot up to meet his before looking sideways towards the window in a small show of embarrassment.

"I have heard it is a wonder of my Father's creation," he says quietly, "But it it's too much trouble-"

"We should be able to swing by for a bit, right Dean?" Sam rolls down the window a bit to flick a bug out that had gotten itself caught in the car.

The world's gone upside down. Cas asking to do things for his own enjoyment, Sam  _okay_  with indulging it, going to hunt goddamn  _rabbits_ , the hell is wrong with everyone. If he didn't know better he'd say he's dreaming, but there's no way his mind is creative enough to come up with this shit on its own. Guess God or some big wig is enjoying themselves at his expense today. "Yea Cas, we can drive by. But we're not going to spend all day."

"Here Cas, let me have the map back and I'll get things rerouted for us," Sam accepts the map back over the seat and hunches back over it to work out their new trail. Cas looks almost anxious with the way he's staring at Sam and waiting on a new time estimate.

"So 'wonder of creation' huh? Who's been telling you that? You angels all sit around discussing bucket lists or something?"

"You did Dean. Back when…when we were discussing it."

Funny. Dean doesn't remember telling Cas about the Grand Canyon, or any landmarks for that matter. But then again, the idea sounds familiar, like a memory laced with whiskey. Maybe Sammy's right and he should cut back on the booze if he's missing pieces of time now. "Right. So I told you 'bout how much fun Sam and I had there when we were kids, right?'

" _You_  had fun. Just you Dean." Sam mutters, giving him a small side eye glance that earns a chuckle and elbow nudge from Dean.

"Oh come on Sammy, you loved it."

"Yea right up until you pushed me while I was looking over the edge! Scared the hell out of me  _and_  Dad, or did you forget the red ass he gave you for that?" True, John hadn't been too pleased that he reduced Sam to tears. But the kid had been 9, it's not like he frightened a toddler. Hadn't been worth the 15 swats with a belt, that's for damn sure.

"Eh, you'll like it this time. How long do you think til we get there?"

"It's gonna add about 3 hours of driving...so we'll probably need to stay the night somewhere or we'll get to Ajo in the middle of the night."

"That okay with you Cas?" Dean asks, glancing again into the rear view, "Said you were up for a road trip, and this'll be multi-day."

"Yes Dean. I am looking forward to it." Cas settles back into the seat, still looking stiff even if he's doing his version of relaxing, and looks out the window at the scenery passing.

* * *

 

It's strange, watching an angel taking in his maker's work. It's like watching someone else praying or worshipping, something that's intimate and personal. Something he isn't invited to witness.

The wind from deep in the Canyon whips up Cas' coat and ruffles his hair as he looks out across the chasm. He stands completely still, and Dean's sure that if he asked he'd be told that there is much here to see that his human senses cannot perceive. Instead he stays silent as well, and trudges back to stand with Sam at the car.

Leaning forward a bit Sam hands him a cold beer from the cooler then goes back to relaxing against the door. With a quick twist the cap pops off and gets tossed in the sand, the first swig going down cool. It's comfortable standing here with his brother, silently watching their friend and basking in the sun. He takes stock of himself quickly, noting with surprise that the achiness in his chest that had been so present for so long is gone. Funny, he doesn't remember that going away. Guess it's just a symptom of things returning to normal.

"What do you think this place is to him?" Sam asks, nodding in Cas' direction.

"Fuck if I know. Whole lot more than it is to us, that's for damn sure," he takes another drink and appreciates the way it cools him down a touch. The desert sun isn't too intense, October usually brings the temperatures down enough to be very comfortable. Might get cold at night though, they should prepare for that later when they hunt. He makes mental notes of supplies they need to get.

The angel still hasn't moved from his spot after 30 minutes and Sam is getting restless. They've already been here over an hour and there's no telling where they'll end up stopping for the night.

"Why don't you go get him and we can head out. Still a lot of ground to cover," Sam says, turning to put the cooler back in the car so they can leave.

"How come I gotta be the one to drag him out of his nirvana?"

"He'd probably bite my head off. Means it's your job."

"Whatever bitch," Dean throws his weight forward off the car door and heads towards Cas and the cliffside.

It really is an awe inspiring view. The massive divide in the ground, ready to swallow up anything. More than anything he gets the sense that this is all ancient. That his boots are crunching dirt that's older than...well, older than dirt. Even the smell of the place has a gravity to it. He passes Cas and goes to look over the edge.

Maybe a few years ago he would have gotten sweaty palms looking miles down into the earth. But after Hell, things like this have kinda lost their sting. Plus, if he did fall there's an angel literally at his back. He wipes off some beads of sweat on his forehead and turns to look back. Cas is still standing like a statue but his gaze has shifted to Dean. Caught looking he glances away quickly.

"Think you're about ready to leave? Sam said we got a while before we can stop for the night."

"In a moment." Cas closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. "What does this place make you feel Dean?"

"I don't know. Small?" He sits down on the edge, legs hanging over. Cas stays silent, prompting him to continue and fill the quiet, "I mean, maybe it's different for you, but I feel insignificant here. World's been happening around this place for thousands of years. People dying, people having babies and living. But this doesn't change, and their lives don't effect it. A building, now that can be torn down by humans or burned. We can't do shit to this though. It's beyond us."

Gritting of rocks precedes the angel coming to sit next to him. Probably going to get brown dirt all over the black dress pants. "It is the same for me also. I believe in this we, angels and humanity, are similar. Wars have raged in all corners of the universe, but there are aspects that will never change. In my true form it would be simple to climb down these rocks or jump across narrow areas. But my powers are limited in regards to changing it. This is creation as old as the world itself, formed by our Father through millennia of winding rivers. Changing this is beyond me."

"Guys come on!" Sam yells from the car.

Dean swallows down the last mouthfuls of the beer he'd forgotten he had then chucks it into the chasm. He and Cas watch it fall until his eyes can no longer pick it out from the rock. With an elbow nudge to Cas' ribs he picks himself up, "Come on man, time to get going."

* * *

 

They stop for the night just outside Phoenix. They'd made a quick stop in a thrift store to get blankets and coats for the desert night and are ready to settle in. The light is waning and Sam has gotten cranky. Even if they hadn't planned to stop for the night Dean would have insisted on it, too long in the car with the desert heat and nothing to look at but dirt plains.

"Go get us some food, we'll get the room set up." He hands the keys to Sam and drags Cas into the little rundown motel's reception desk. "Hey how ya doin'. We need a..." He trails off. Damn it do they get two rooms with Cas here or just the usual and let him sit around all night while they sleep? Doubt they'd have a room with three beds. Should have thought this ahead.

"Sir, we don't discriminate here. No sense in being bashful," the lady beyond the counter says, giving a weird smile to him and Cas in turn.

How the hell does she know Cas is an angel? And why would anyone even discriminate against him being...oh. The two men thing. Right. That doesn't help the way she probably intended, because now Dean's nearly tongue tied trying to explain while drowning in humiliation, "No we're...he's a friend and...my brother'll be right back-"

"We will require two beds for the night please," Cas says smoothly.

She gives a small chuckle at Dean but looks through the books quickly and hands Cas the key, explaining where the ice machine is and what time they can check out. Dean isn't even listening, trying to melt into the floor as quickly as possible. How the hell did his first thought go to  _angel racism_  or some bullshit? And damn Cas for being so in control of himself and unaffected. He mumbles a thanks and follows Cas back out the door. He can practically feel Cas bristling in annoyance, best to fend off the inevitable for as long as he can.

"What number?" He snatches the keys and heads off down the row of doors.

"Number 7, I believe it will be the next one."

They get into the room and take in the faded and dated interior. He sets down the backpacks and looks into the bathroom, making sure it's all manageable for the night then busies himself turning on the taps to see if water comes out and flicks light switches. Really just anything to keep from facing Cas and explaining-

"Why are you so flustered when someone assumes we are together?"

-that. At least Sam isn't here to laugh in his face. "Because it's weird."

"Why?"

"What are you, a toddler? You ask 'why' about everything, can't we just drop it."

Cas doesn't seem to take well to being called a child. His eyes have narrowed and now he's firmly planted in place, not backing down. "I would like to know why Dean. I could take the thoughts from your head, but that would be rude." And just like that he's in Castiel mode, power nearly falling from him and making Dean's heart pick up a bit.

"Ok we literally just discussed this yesterday, you know why."

"And yet you continue to act as though it is an insult. Earlier you said it was because of Sam's teasing, but he is not here now. Explain." Castiel snaps at him, actual disdain clear in his voice.

"Look it's just weird ok?!" He nearly yells, catching himself and his emotions then awkwardly sits on the edge of the bed for lack of anything to do with himself while dealing with this. "I'm not into dudes, not that you aren't cool and whatever, but I don't want people getting the wrong idea about me."

"You lie to people often for your job whenever convenient. How is that not also giving them the 'wrong idea'," Cas says with air quotes, his attitude calming slightly back into normal.

"Goddamnit fine, you want the truth?" This is exasperating. He gets up and paces a little around his side of the room. Cas continues to give him a cool stare.

"Yes I do. And pease do not use my father's name in that manner."

"When people talk about us being together then my mind starts thinking about if we were and what that'd be like and it's weird and I'm not gay and I don't want to start thinking that way ok?" he says in a rush, keeping his focus on the ugly carpet pattern. There's silence for a few moments while his mind races. With a deep breath he gets the courage to look up and see what reaction that got. Cas has his head tilted and is giving him a soft look, almost like he's amused.

"So you have thought of that. Of us, in that way," Cas states, no real question.

But question or not that needs clarifying, "I mean if I talk about something your mind'll think of it right? If I ask how Heaven is your mind will go that direction and think about it. Same thing." Dammit where's Sammy with the food, this conversation needs to end, or better yet never have even started.

"I see," Cas still has that damn little smile, like he knows something funny that he won't share. It's infuriating.

Thank fuck for little miracles. The growl of the Impala passes outside, creating a perfect out from this discussion. "Gotta go hail Sam," Dean mutters, passing Cas to go wave down Sam since he forgot to text him the room number.

They make no more mention of their conversation, but nevertheless Sam picks up on the awkward tension. Thankfully he says nothing, just gives Dean questioning looks to which he returns a 'don't ask me' look of his own. The tacos Sam picked up are good though, especially with real guacamole to dip chips in. Apparently it's from a food truck, and so they discuss the merits of different ones they've had over the years. Cas seems amazed at the idea of people traveling with kitchens and even tries a bite of a guacamole covered chip when Dean pushes it on him.

Dean's earlier worry about how the sleeping arrangements will go turns out to be unfounded. Cas decides that he'll retire to somewhere else while they sleep so as not to be creepy but stays the rest of the evening to watch TV with them. It's a comfortable night, just guys hanging out and laughing at anything they feel like. Just as he's going to sleep Dean once again marvels at how full he feels in his chest, pleased with the change in himself.

Dawn comes with the smell of bacon and coffee luring Dean into consciousness. He opens his eyes and immediately sees that Sam is still in his bed, though from the movements it's likely that he's waking up as well. With a jolt he remembers their new travel buddy and sits up to find Cas patiently waiting at the little motel table, two plates of breakfast set out for the Winchesters.

"Good morning Dean. Are you hungry?"

"Am I ever," he mumbles, still half asleep. Maybe he could convince the angel to bring it to him in bed. Course that'd be a little too familiar, and Sammy'd make some joke about it, so instead he gets up, "Food Sammy, get up," he kicks Sam in the hip on his way to the table and gets a muffled whine in response. "Where'd you get this Cas? Looks great."

"I stopped by a diner in Georgia on my way this morning. I was assured that they had the best sausage gravy in the state."

Dean's nearly drooling before he can even take a bite. His plate is piled with fluffy biscuits, a big puddle of gravy, strips of bacon, and some scrambled eggs. Sam's plate is similar, but with fruit instead of biscuits and gravy. His first bite of smothered biscuit makes him moan, "This is so fucking good Cas, I just can't...I can't even process this. Sammy get over here, it's time to worship food."

Only a few more grumbles come from Sam as he gets up, shaking his hair out to try and tame his bed head. He gives an appreciative sound of his own when he digs into the bacon and eggs. "You didn't have to do this Cas, but I'm glad you did, this is fantastic!" He says between bites.

"I think I'm having a religious experience," Dean says with a mouthful of perfectly crisped bacon, "We're keeping you for sure. This is amazing." Cas seems pleased with himself and puffs up a little at the praise. He gives Dean a look that plainly says 'I'm sorry for last nights argument' and Dean gives a smile in return. Seems the angel has learned that food is a good way to placate the Winchesters.

Stuffed full of bacon grease and coffee they pile back into the car for the remainder of the trip. Dean lets Sam drive for a bit to keep the good moods going and spends an hour or so listening to Cas tell them about his brothers and sisters. Which apparently refers to every angel, but there are several that he has been particularly close with or worked with the most.

Castiel explains about his post that he had taken up and attended since the dawn of time. He had taken domain over Saturn, watching the goings on of the universe from there with occasional trips to Earth at the bidding of his superiors. He had been joined by his brother Uriel for some time, and it was Uriel who was keeping watch now. Apparently Uriel was funny, but Cas didn't share any of his jokes so Dean would have to see for himself on that point. Castiel's other close brother was Balthazar, who apparently had no reservations about joining the humans on Earth. From what Cas shared he was about as worldly as an angel could get and would certainly be a wild force to be reckoned with.

Sam asked about the archangels, the only ones he and Dean had ever known anything about, but Castiel declined to comment on Michael and Lucifer. However he did seem fond of Gabriel, even if he hadn't had contact with him in longer than most cultures had existed.

They rarely had been given so much insight into Cas and his world and the Winchesters drank it up. Many of the things he said were beyond them, something they couldn't understand, but they took it in stride and asked questions when they were able to. It made the drive easy, distracted them from the barrenness of the desert, and gave them a new appreciation for their new comrade.

* * *

 

After only two stops they arrive at Ajo around 3:00 pm. Dean pulled the Impala into the only gas station in the little town to gas up before the trek into the desert.

"What do you think we'll need for these things?" he asked, grabbing for the bag in the back seat that he kept all the credit cards in. Cas handed it to him with a small grimace. He had been very vocal once and only once on his opinion of them scamming for a living, and that opinion was quite low. But he understands why they need to and that it's a necessary evil.

"Uh well you lure them in with whiskey and after that they're just like any other rabbit from what Bobby said."

"You mean we get to  _drin_ k on the job?" Dean's starting to look forward to this more and more already.

Sam huffs a small amused sound then follows Dean out of the car, "I mean it certainly will make up for sitting in the middle of the desert overnight.

"Ah come on Sammy, you love camping!" Dean particularly remembers how Sam's eyes would light up at the chance to camp when he was younger. It was cheaper than using motels and sometimes John had been strapped for cash.

Sam got the gas paid for and pumping then leaned next to Dean while they waited. The autumn air had mildly cooled the desert, taking out a lot of the crazy heat. The pump clicked as it poured fuel in the Impala and then the back door clicked as Cas opened it to get some air in the car.

"Is there anything that I can assist with?"

"Nah just hang tight, we'll be out of here in a minute." The pump flicked off when the car was full and Sam pulled it out and closed everything up.

"How would one 'hang tight'?" The angel looked rather confused, and gave Dean a searching look.

"Uh, just kinda means sit there. Just a saying Cas," Dean grumbles, ignoring the smirk Sam has as they get back into the car,

"Your idioms are confusing. They do not immediately make sense, how do you keep track of them? You know, the Bazillian tribe-"

"Ok! Next stop, liquor store!" Dean cut in. No sense in letting Cas get carried away on a train of thought while the rest of them were sober. He feels rude for doing it, but to be fair they need to get shit done, not just sit around talking all day.

Fortunately for them the small town makes it easy to find what they need. Just two businesses down Sam points at the lit up sign proudly announcing the place. As soon as they enter Dean can see Cas drop his shoulders a little. His small tells showing his displeasure at being in such a place. He can even tell the minute the angel catches sight of the porn magazines on and behind the counter because Cas takes a deep breath and flinches his hands. Poor dude needs to get out more.

"Dean," Cas hisses between his teeth, "This does not seem to be a very appropriate place. Is there not a better location to acquire what we need?"

"What? Never seen a naked lady before angel?" He jokes, picking up a magazine and throwing it at Cas. It's caught in a flurry of pages and blushing.

"Lay off him Dean, no reason to freak him out just because he's not into busty Asians like you are," Sam brushes past them headed to the whiskey section.

"Sorry Cas, can't help messin with you a little. Did the same to Sam when he was 15."

"It is not the nudity that bothers me, it just makes me uncomfortable." Cas places the magazine back on the stack and moves to follow Sam.

"You gonna get on some high horse about how they should respect themselves or something?" Dean says to his back and follows.

"No, I do not condemn what they choose to do. It is their body after all. However, it still makes me uncomfortable."

Dean laughs a little, how many girls across the world would love to have an angel not judge them for what they do with their bodies. If only they knew. "I'll stop the harassing, but you're going to have to drink with us as payment tonight. This is going to be boring as hell sitting in the sand for hours."

Cas stops and turns to him, tilting his head and getting that deep stare of his going, "I was under the impression that Hell is anything but boring."

Really? Did he have to go there? Dean had been doing so good at blocking those memories but now  _whoosh_  right fresh in his mind. He clenches his teeth against the visuals and feelings and plows ahead to join Sam, "Not cool Cas. I won't bring up porn and you shouldn't bring up Hell."

Sam's crouching by the whiskey shelf looking up at their exchange like they've suddenly grown two heads and mutters something under his breath.

"How much do you think we'll need?"

"Well if we get a bottle for just you-"

"I don't drink that much bitch."

"-then maybe 6 bottles? That way we don't have to worry?" Sam starts examining the different brands to see what the best price will be.

"Make it 7 to be safe, Cas is drinking with us."

He feels the air shift as Cas comes up behind him then a tan coated arm comes forward around his shoulder to pick up a bottle. "If you wish me to be intoxicated it will take far more than that."

Sam looks up with wide surprised eyes and brushes some hair off his forehead. "You're really going to drink with us?"

"How much we talkin about here Cas?" Dean asks tentatively. He has a sneaking suspicion that he doesn't want to know the answer.

Cas takes a close look at the bottle in his hand then glances around the store. Yea, this won't end well. "Approximately half of this store would be needed."

Sam full on sits down in his surprise. Dean just takes a small step back and gives an appreciative nod while trying to get his head around that. No way they could afford to get  _that_  much, or even part of that, credit cards be damned. Doubt the salesman would even allow it.

"There may be a simple solution. I will just get my own elsewhere when needed. It shouldn't take longer than a few minutes."

"I guess that works." Dean manages, still floored by the idea of Cas drinking a liquor store dry. Where the hell is he going to get that much or the money to pay for it? How can he drink  _that much_? Those are questions probably best left unanswered.

"Alright well...then let's just get what we need and head out. Gotta set those traps before night," Sam says, grabbing several of the cheaper bottles and hands them up to Dean then reaches for more.

"Sounds like a plan, but we need to get some good stuff for  _us_  to have. Rabbits should be happy to be getting anything so they get cheap," Dean adds a bottle of Jameson to his armful, "Get what you can grab and meet me up front," he calls over his shoulder.

Cas follows him to the front like a duckling, and when he gets his load settled onto the counter Cas adds a small bottle of whipped cream flavored vodka.

"What are you, a girl?"

"It sounds interesting and I want to try it. That doesn't make me any particular gender. Aren't you curious to try it as well?" Cas says with a small amount of annoyance in his voice, but his face is smirking when Dean looks up. If he didn't know any better he'd say Cas was reading his mind again, or had at some point. Because he's  _very_  sure he's never told anyone about his secret desire to try that exact type of vodka. It's too girly to pick up for himself, since Sam would give him hell, and there's no girl in his life to pawn it off on her.

"I will meet you both at the car," Cas says as Sam comes up behind him with another four bottles. The guy behind the counter raises an eyebrow at them, but doesn't say anything.

Sam's about to open his mouth about the flavored vodka, but before he can even ask Dean's answering, "Cas wanted it. Let's let him have his fun."

"You let him get away with everything. How come I can't do anything fun," Sam pouts.

"Oh please you have lots of fun. You're out nearly every chance you can get!" He hands the card over along with his fake ID.

"Yea but still," Sam mutters, "He just bats his eyes and gets whatever he wants."

The asshole's out the door before Dean can get together a good retort. He presses his lips together and accepts the cards back then grabs up their bags.

He finds the other two chatting away about idioms and languages when he gets back to the car, continuing the conversation from where he'd stopped Cas earlier. No need to stop him this time, they have nothing else that needs doing as they drive out into the desert. With no clear directions for a location he takes the first road he comes to headed into the park and settles in for the drive, half listening to Cas and Sam chattering away.


	10. Chapter 10

Their drive into the heart of the desert passes easily and uneventfully. Dean's favorite music plays softly in the background as they chat. At some point Sam and Cas discuss the plants and animals that live in the desert, and at another Sam and Dean reminisce on their camping experiences. Sam pouts for a few minutes that they didn't bring scores ingredients but perks up again when reminded of the alcohol rattling next to the angel in the back.

The radio cuts out after an hour, too far from the nearest tower for a signal. Dean would mind most trips, but with the constant prattle the other two have going on, he just clicks it off. Cas has been talking about his time residing over Saturn with Uriel and it's actually kinda interesting. His trust in them is evident in how much more he's willing to share. A few months ago he would barely answer any of Dean's questions. Guess it just shows how close they are. In a friends kind of way.

The only downside to the drive is that Cas' usual lack of awareness for personal space has gotten a bit worse. He keeps nearly hitting Dean in the head with his arm when he points things out to Sam. And it's a little awkward to have his head so close when he leans over the seats to talk. Makes Dean uncomfortable. It's weird to have anyone that close, let alone another dude. Sam hasn't been one for close contact since he hit puberty, instead letting his expressions show how close he feels to Dean. It had taken Dean a while to get used to sleeping without another body right up next to him or ride in the car without limbs haphazardly sprawled over his lap. But there had been plenty of pretty girls happy to fill that need for physical contact.

The longer it goes on the more comfortable it gets, though. Sam hardly even notices, just one glance with a quirked up eyebrow. And fortunately Cas isn't being creepy about it. He  _could_ be doing his usual scrutinizing of Dean's face, but the scenery and discussion he's having with Sam keep his attention elsewhere.

Bobby's ranger contact hadn't given detailed instructions, just asked that they clear out the areas around the pull offs. As they pass them they make quick stops to set up a few traps in the bushes. They're flimsy little rope things that will do the trick, and a small cup of whiskey is left as bait at each one. Cas learns pretty quickly how to make them himself, so they trade the job at each stop. Despite the late start they have around 25 traps set up along the road by 8 o'clock and stop to make some last traps and camp. They can double back in the morning to see if they got enough or need to do this another night or two.

Dean pulls the Impala off the road, wincing only a little as she hits bumps and gets covered in God knows how much more dust. He'll give her a deep bath next time he gets a chance. They all pile out into the evening air and stretch, taking in their surroundings for the night. Sam is the first to move, getting the trap supplies and heading off to set up a few more closer to the road.

"You can join him if you want Cas, not much to do around here yet," Dean says, sidling up next to the angel.

Cas looks at him from the corner of his eye for a moment then gives a small nod. The autumn may have done a lot for the heat, but with so many layers it seems there's a limit to what Cas' vessel can take, or maybe Dean's just never been this close to notice, but a bead of sweat rolls from his dark hairline and down the tan neck into the white collar of his shirt. Just like the time Cas cried, Dean has an urge to wipe it away, but instead just watches the moisture get sucked up into the fabric. Damn caretaker instincts kicking in. Too many years of wiping Sam's face and such, it's engrained the need to fix things.

"You can, uh, lose the coat if you're hot. Gotta be a million degrees with the full getup," he coughs out, turning to open the trunk and look busy. Blankets need spread and a fire to light. That's something he can do.

He perfectly times his emergence from under the trunk lid, just missing Cas take off the trench coat. The angel's already walking away towards Sam, still in full black suit. The sunset catches his hair as he goes, making it shine with gold tones. Dean shakes his head a little and takes a deep breath. The fuck is with his mind recently, it's like he's stuck in a useless girl movie. Not that he's ever watched one to know. It's all Sam's fault for making him scrutinize everything in relation to Cas.

Dean dumps an armful of threadbare blankets next to the car and busies himself setting up a fire. He scours around, grabbing up nearby pieces of wood and dead shrubs. For a desert there's plenty of life out here, just not lush with grass and forests. To keep his mind on more appropriate topics he hums songs to himself while he collects and comments to himself about the quality of the weather. Really anything to keep from thinking about that sweat drop rolling… _nope_. Wow it's nice out this evening. Will be a great night for a fire, drinking, and looking at the stars.

Once his bundle is collected he turns towards the area that will be their campsite and picks a flat area away from the nearby shrubbery. Squinting against the sun he can just barely make out the shapes of Cas and Sam setting traps.

Good, they should stay away for a while. At least until his head is clear, which try as he might it  _most definitely_  is not. The weird thoughts he keeps getting around and about Castiel are actually starting to worry him a bit, and he needs space to think. It's not like he's having inappropriate thoughts about his friend, it's just the stuff Sam and Bobby have been saying _._ To be safe though he tries to envision a penis and can almost feel his mind recoiling. Very good, not gay, definitely just his mind being fucked up.

He's been trying to blame it on alcohol and all the teasing he's been getting about him and Cas, but it's starting to actually worry him. People have always made comments about him and Sam being boyfriends or whatever when they don't get the brother thing right away, and that's never bothered him much or made him look at Sam differently. Though after a lifetime of being around the kid it's not like he hasn't noticed everything about him by this point. Yea that's it, just his mind taking in a new person. Doesn't usually get the chance to really catalogue things about others like this, always just quick friendships or acquaintances.

Course then there's the apparent black outs he's having. The random shit Cas mentions that he doesn't remember himself. As much as he wants to blame that on the alcohol, he knows he doesn't drink  _that_  much, and when he does he's just so  _sure_  that he remembers it all. After all, it's not like he drinks into a stupor often or ever, really.

Maybe it's some kind of curse. They did shut down a witch several months ago, she could have pulled some crap as revenge. But then there'd be a hex bag. He makes a mental note to search the Impala for one when he washes the dust off.

With a quick snap of his lighter the tinder catches into a small flame. He coaxes it to light the rest of the wood, then sits back to admire his work. He'd dare any Boy Scout to find fault in his technique, learned in the  _real_  wild for  _real_  survival. While the other two finish up he sets up their camp, putting blankets on the ground and pulling the food and whiskey out. He's not feeling hungry, but Sam'll bitch if he comes back hungry.

Crunching gravel and dirt from behind him signal the return of Sam and Cas, the angel's deep voice cutting through the night air first with Sam's coming second. Before they reach the edge of the fire's light Cas whisks off, surprising Dean, but Sam seemed to expect it. He wastes no time digging into the sandwiches they packed, munching away happily and setting up an area for himself on one of the blankets. Dean nibbles at his sandwich and sits next to Sam, leaning back onto the door of the Impala.

They chat a little as they eat, apparently Cas left for a few moments to secure a stash of drinks for himself, then lounge around waiting for him to return. Sam's scarfing down his last bite and reaching for the rest of Dean's when a small shift of wind deposits the angel right where he'd left.

"Took ya long enough," Dean jokes, amazed he needed so little time to get however much he needed. Honestly, he feels for the poor bastard's liver the angel will be using.

"It was no difficult task. I should be sufficiently stocked," Cas strides over to them then looks away sheepishly, "If we are still planning to inebriate ourselves that is," he trails off.

"Hell yes we are! Not every day we have this much time to kill and a damn good reason to have this much alcohol."

"Like you ever need a reason."

"Shut it Sam, you're as bad as I am lately and you know it. Well, how should we do this? Just start in like alcoholics or want to play a game? Got enough people for once," Dean drags one of the bottles of good whiskey over.

"I'd say we play Never Have I Ever since it's easy, but we already know everything about each other and Cas probably hasn't done anything we could list."

Cas stands awkwardly looking between them with a small confused expression then sits on Dean's other side, across from Sam. The fire in the center of them crackles, sending a few sparks up into the late evening air.

"Alright fine. Don't have any cards either so," Dean trails off. He honestly doesn't know any drinking games, was hoping college boy would have something to pitch in.

"How about truth or dare?"

"What are we Sammy, five years old? This a slumber party or something? I guess you want to do makeovers too."

"No I just figured it'd be easy, you don't have to be such a dick about it," Sam gives Dean a pointed glare and reaches for a bottle to take a drink.

"What exactly is this game? If it is simple enough for a child then perhaps I could quickly learn," Cas says as he snaps a bottle of whiskey into his hand. Dean's pretty sure angel powers aren't supposed to help angels get drunk, but hey, not for him to judge or comment.

Sam's lit up a bit with Cas' curiosity and starts happily explaining how his version of truth or dare works. Might as well have been discussing the fine points of physics for how engrossed Cas is, eyes narrowed in concentration and giving Sam all his attention. Dean grabs himself a bottle then leans back on one hand and watches the stars while they talk. They're bright out here in the desert, even so early as this. No extra light to drown them out.

"Dean!"

"Yea what?" he gives Sam his best annoyed bitch face.

"I said, you go first, truth or dare?"

"Oh ok, uh dare." No way he's chickening out and truthing first thing.

Sam thinks for a minute and looks at Dean with squinty eyes and a smirk. "Alright I got it. I dare you to do a little dance for us."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Sorry but no one is drunk enough for me to make up a better one and you hate dancing."

Dean rolls his eyes and gets up, painfully aware of the attention on him. God Sammy's a bitch. Maybe it'd be worth it to just drink instead of doing this.

He takes a steeling breath and puts his hands up ready to do some useless version of dancing but makes the mistake of looking down at the audience. Sam's smirking and seems to be enjoying Dean's discomfort, but Cas' blue eyes are riveted to him in a way that makes his skin crawl a bit.

"Yea I'm just gonna drink," he plops back down and grabs his bottle. "How many seconds?"

"Seriously? You're going to pussy out on that?"

"Shut it bitch and count my seconds."

"Fine, you get five for that. One, two," Sam starts counting as Dean tips the bottle up and begins drinking. Drinking whiskey straight for five seconds is  _much_  better than having Cas watch him dance for who knows how long.

"Three, four, five."

Thank god it was only five seconds. Dean comes up coughing with watering eyes. Whiskey is not meant to be drank like that, good thing he had the foresight to bring chasers. While flipping off Sam for the laughter coming his way he gets a few drinks of Coke in. Cas seems moderately concerned at his reaction to the liquor. Whatever, he'll get his just desserts soon enough.

"Shut up Sammy, it'll be your turn soon enough."

"I believe I have played a version of this game before now that we've begun," Cas chimes in. "My brothers and sisters played feats of daring often, however we quickly stopped after Gabriel left us. He was the mastermind."

"Oh really? And what'd you dare? Cloud racing? Maybe steal someone's harp or halo?" The glare he gets for that almost burns and makes him flinch back a little. Guess joking about Cas' family is off limits, good to know.

"That would be what humans believe Heaven and our true bodies to be similar to. It would be difficult to describe many of the dares, but the most common was to create something bizarre." He leans forward a bit and gives the fire a searching look, his eyes unfocusing as though he's looking through a millennia. "You two should know of the last one Gabriel was dared to make. He had a fondness for ducks and beavers and combined them to create what I believe you call a platypus."

Sam chokes on his mouthful of whiskey and starts snorting a laugh. Dean just sits with his mouth wide open in complete shock and awe.

"Dude your brother  _made_  those? What a genius!" Sam manages before devolving into silent body wracking laughs.

"Yes, well, I do not believe your Bible was terribly informative about the way some things came to be. It is a solemn history lesson after all," Cas says sheepishly though his eyes are glittering. He seems pleased at the brother's reactions and glances up at Dean quickly before looking back to the fire.

Dean sits back, taking a minute to really appreciate how bizarre being friends with an angel is sometimes. It just seems so… _normal,_  even though they're discussing fucking  _creating_  something that will be a living breathing thing. If he had to guess at what this would be like a year ago he would have said angels were probably dicks just like demons and every other supernatural thing they hunt. But Cas, he's just a normal guy with normal thoughts and socially awkward reactions.

"Dean?"

Crap he's been staring at Cas. Who has socially awkward tendencies now?

"Uh, sorry man, got distracted."

Cas nods, "Shall we continue our game?"

"Uh yea, whose turn was it?"

"It'd be yours since I asked you," Sam takes a sip from his Coke.

"Ok then, Cas, you're up. Truth or dare?"

"I will choose dare."

Dean thinks for a moment on what he wants to dare the angel to do. He hasn't really tested the angel's boundaries before, but he has a suspicion that he's fairly shameless. What with the apparent lack of cultural knowledge he has. Would probably be completely unembarrassed about having to strip naked or something. Which is a weird thought, Dean shakes his head a bit, trying to get his mind back on track. Needs to be something good that he could do that would border on making him choose to drink instead…

"I got it. I dare you to drink that entire bottle down in one go."

"Dean! I'm pretty sure that'd…" Sam trails off.

To their complete dismay Cas has turned the bottle up with no hesitation and begins drinking. He makes it look easy, like it's just water he's chugging, and his throat works as he goes. The flickering fire casting shadows on his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. Dean's torn between being completely floored with awe and wanting to intervene before the angel gives himself alcohol poisoning.

With a final swallow the whiskey is gone and Cas sets the bottle in front of him then snaps another into existence. "Was that correctly done? You seem displeased."

"Dude that was…" Dean tries but fails to come up with something to even compare that to.

Sam gives a laugh, "Oh my God Cas, I think you just became Dean's soulmate!"

"He's…you're such…" Dean starts again, but decides it isn't worth fighting. Sam isn't going to listen at this point, bastard's taking another mouthful of his whiskey, and to be honest that little display put Cas right at the top of the 'best friends for life' category. "That was damn impressive man. Sure it's ok to do that? Don't want you dying on us."

"As I've said, it will take far more for me to feel the effects than for you. That was equivalent to a few drinks," Cas says, blushing at the ground from the praise. "I believe it is my turn to ask. Sam, truth or dare?"

"Uh, I guess I'll be the first and pick truth."

"Bitch." Dean takes another stinging drink from his own bottle.

"Why do you chose to keep your hair at such a length? I would think it would be a hindrance to hunting."

Leave it to the socially awkward angel to ask the worst possible question. Sam's mood goes from tipsy giggly to annoyed in a millisecond.

"Your funeral, feathers," Dean smirks and takes another drink.

"I don't understand. Was that…an inappropriate question?" Cas looks between the brothers, the orange uneven light making his concerned eyes look downright terrified.

"I just don't like people talking about my hair Cas. It's fine. And no I'm not answering it," Sam mutters tensely. "How many seconds do I drink?"

Cas flounders for a moment before looking relieved that Sam isn't pressing the issue, "Does 4 seconds sound fair?"

Sam makes a grunt in agreement and tips his bottle up to drink as Cas counts. Dean watches with amusement, the alcohol's finally working its way into his system, warm flooding through him in small waves. He's getting to that perfect stage of tipsy, when everything's happy and fuzzy on the edges. Sam finishes his punishment drink with a gasp of air and a wince, fumbling for his chaser.

"Took it like a champ man," Dean congratulates his brother, giving him a pat on the shoulder. All he gets in response is a glare over the Coke can and a middle finger raised high. He recognizes this look, it screams 'thanks for your friend being a total dick'.

"Ok then right back at you Castiel," Sam says with a little touch of venom on the angel's name, "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Sam thinks for a moment, watching Cas take a drink while they stare each other down. "What kind of thing did  _you_  make on a dare if your brother made a platypus?"

"Bees."

Both brothers make identical bewildered faces.

"I chose to make something that would provide something good for other animals as well as tend for the flowers. Their social structures are based off of the ranks of angels; one at the head with her attendants, there are many soldiers, and then there are workers. They were beautiful, and I find comfort in observing them."

"You're a weird dude, you know that?"

"I don't believe I judge you for  _your_  interests, Dean," Cas sasses with a small smirk. Sam giggles at that, giving Dean a pointed look while having another drink.

"Whatever, you're both asses," Dean grumbles, "Your turn next Cas."

* * *

Within the hour they've gotten Sam completely shitfaced. He's devolved into daring them to do the most ridiculous things, including daring Dean to hump the Impala which  _did_   _not_  happen nor was the thought even considered. Some things are just sacred, and Baby is one of them.

Not that Cas and Dean are doing any better at handling their liquor. He's pretty sure Cas stole an entire store worth of whiskey with the number of bottles he's gone through. And his own lone bottle is nearly empty. Damn when did that happen?

Oh yea, during his  _7 second_  drink because he refused to admit the kinkiest thing he'd ever done with a woman. But, the panty story remains safe.

"I nev'r kisseda dude," Sam slurs mid-giggle, eyes struggling to focus.

"Wrong game sloppy. We're doing truth or dare not-"

"Drink or admit it!"

"What? No, I haven't either, so I'm not drinking."

Sam's giggles turn into nearly silent full-body laughs, a few words getting out here and there that made no real sense. Damn, Dean thought he was drunk but looks like he's crossed that line and is nearing blackout mode.

"I believe these games are unnecessary at this juncture," Cas says around the mouth of his bottle before he knocks back a couple swallows. His vessel's showing signs now, cheeks flushed red and he's swaying a tiny bit. But mostly it's his eyes that give it away. They're bright with an intensity above the usual, which Dean wouldn't have thought possible. It's like the dude's gone manic, but only in the eyes. Yet he can still say shit like 'juncture'. Who the hell even uses that word?

"Ha you drank! Cas kissed a guy!" Sam crows and lunges forward wildly to point.

The angel sucks in a surprised breath and stares back at Sam before gesturing in a reckless kind of way, "I have not, I merely took a drink because I wanted to."

"Have too!"

"Ok guys stop acting like 3 year olds-"

"I have not!"

"You know that's a sin-"

"I have never kissed anyone."

Sam shuts up at that, gaping openly. Even Dean is taken aback a little at Cas' honesty. I mean, who the hell admits to something like that? And it's just sad too. Dean takes a drag of his whiskey, wincing at the burn and how pitiful it is that a moderately attractive male has never gotten  _anywhere_  with a woman, not even a  _kiss_. Should be against the law, there's even a movie about that or something. Maybe. Oh whatever, he's too drunk to remember things like that.

"You gotta fix that man. Like, right now. Go poof," Sam punctuates the word with exploding hand signals, "somewhere and jus kiss 'em."

"Yea, shit man. That's just depressing. Neckin' it's like, the greatest thing next to sex."

"And blow jobs," Sam adds very seriously. He then ruins the attempt at appearing sober enough for conversation and topples sideways.

Cas looks between them uncomfortably, then takes a long drink of his whiskey.

"I mean, how old  _are_  you and you've  _never…_ shit," Dean says while a wave of alcohol rolls through his head throwing him off balance for a few seconds. He catches himself against the Impala. "You're not even ugly, the hell kinda women you been around?"

"None. This is the first time that I have taken a vessel. Could we please discuss something else?" Cas refuses to look up from the fire, instead looking at it like it just grew four snake heads.

Sam giggles to himself, oblivious to anything, muttering something about 'Dean', 'guys', and 'virgins'. Dean wracks his sluggish brain for something to talk about to lighten the mood, but struggles to grasp onto a thought. The whiskey is pounding through him now, the somewhat empty stomach speeding it along.

"You doin' okay over there champ?" he directs at Sam, who's now fallen over on his side laughing.

"I'm fine and…yer, such a...," Sam mumbles, waving an arm about in an attempt to convey something.

"Just go to sleep dude, you're done," he says. The lump that is his brother doesn't respond, nodded off to sleep already. Lightweight.

Damn it's getting cold. With the sun gone the desert has chilled dramatically, and their couple of thin blankets definitely won't cut it. Fortunately they have the little fire, but Dean has a feeling it'd be better to get Cas to come sit next to him. Feels warmer with another body next to you.

"Scoot over, don't want to have to talk too loud at you and wake Sammy. Kid needs to sleep all this off."

With a small smile Cas pushes up and awkwardly moves to sit beside Dean against the Impala. His movements are jerky, and as he settles down he overcorrects and nearly falls into Dean. With a small chuckled 'sorry' he pulls himself back over but stays close enough for their shoulders to be pressed together. Almost immediately some warmth spreads through Dean through the contact.

"How're you liking being drunk? This another first?" Dean asks, voice quieter now that Cas is closer.

Cas gives a big sigh that falls from his lips with a smile, "It is enjoyable. This…out of control feeling. I can see how it would be addicting for humans. You all are always clamoring for control of everything you can see, and  _not_  see. Giving up that control is therapeutic. And Sam has been much more amiable today than usual. Perhaps he needed to give up all semblance of control for a time."

"Let's save the philosophy for sober times Cas."

"Whatever pleases you Dean." And what the hell does  _that_  even mean? It makes Dean squirm a little inside to hear Cas deferring to him like that. Course it's far from the first time, usually the angel gives into anything Dean wants or doesn't want. It's not like he's in charge of the guy, literally nothing could make Castiel do anything he doesn't want to, but having authority over an  _angel_  just doesn't sit well with him.

Cas' shoulder shaking against his draws his attention. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just thinking to myself," Cas says with a smile.

"Well what about? You know, it's not nice to laugh about something and then not share."

"I'm just thinking about how," he stops to search for a word, gesturing around at them all, "bizarre, life here on Earth can be. I never wanted to get involved with it, and now that I am it's so fascinating and frustrating all at once."

Dean looks over and watches Cas who's watching the fire. He's pretty sure even if he  _was_  sober that whatever the angel just said would still make no sense, and at this point following trains of thought is getting harder. Course, with how relaxed his eyes look Cas probably isn't putting thoughts together any better than Dean. He feels himself tilt over a little, balance drastically affected by the alcohol. Shouldn't have drank this much, but oh well, not much he can do now but enjoy it. And Cas'll just heal the hangover in the morning. Hopefully. Probably. He better.

It only feels like he's just looked over at Cas, but it's probably been longer, because now there are big wild blue eyes looking right back at him. He never noticed the little crinkles at the edge of Cas' eyes, but then again he hasn't seen him smile like this before either. He hasn't been this close before to really scrutinize him, but with how they're leaning on each other's shoulders now it's easy to take it all in.

No wait, yes he has, there was that one time. When…shit when was that? He tries to think but the memory slips from his mind like sand. It must have been a while ago, or he'd remember it, wouldn't he? Cas raises his eyebrows a little, the smile never leaving his eyes.

"What are you thinking about Dean?"

Without a second thought he blurts out his first thought, "I'm wondering why I keep forgetting things we talk about or do, but you remember them all. It's like, as soon as I remember things they fly away out of my head. Probably drink too much or something."

Instead of his usual taken aback reaction to when Dean prods, it's almost like a fire lit up behind his eyes, "I very much doubt that the alcohol is your problem. Perhaps your memory just needs to be jarred."

"Yea maybe," Dean whispers, even though he has no fucking clue what the angel could mean, his mind isn't really capable of much more than tunnel visioning on one thing at a time. The last of what he drank is starting to pump into his veins and  _woah_  that was more than he should ever have had. But he does know that he  _really_  dislikes that knowing smirk that's come over Cas' face, like there's some big hidden joke he's the butt of. It's the look Sammy gets when they're doing prank wars and he's just walked into a trap. And looking a little lower, his attention catches on the 5 o'clock shadow Cas always has. Does he shave? Is it some weird angel permanent thing? He should ask. Or stop staring.

And just like that there are lips on his. Chaste and sweet, but with an eagerness behind it that is unmistakable. It's been such a long time since anyone showed him this much emotion, usually it's just something girls do because it's expected, emotions don't get too mixed in. Lust? Yes. Passion? Kinda. But actual care and desperation? Rare treat.

Without thinking he lifts a hand up to sink into dense waves of hair and directs things, tilting heads to line up better. He sinks into the warmth of it mixing with the pleasant warmth of whiskey in his stomach, all of it moving and beating to the timing of his blood pumping.

After a moment something clicks, and he's suddenly aware of just what the hell he's doing. And what's worse, there's a bizarre sense of deja vu to this. He can just barely recall this happening before, Cas leaned into him and eager, rhythmically pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks. But where were they when that happened? Was it a dream he had?

A small desperate sound catches his attention (had to have been Cas because Dean  _doesn't do desperate)_  and brings him back from autopilot.

With a bit of a gasp he leans back, taking in the eager and absolutely manic looking angel. He looks like he just saw the second coming of Christ or something. Oh man, if he'd known Cas was a horny drunk who had a thing for him he would never have agreed to this tonight. Even though the thought of more sounds  _damn_  appealing right about now.

Normal people would probably react with an appropriate emotion. They would either go back for more or start getting upset. But not Dean, no  _never_  Dean. And he can't even stop himself, the giggles just start without warning and then transition into a full body laugh.

"Was that," Cas seems to falter for a moment, concern creeping into the look of reverence, "bad?"

"No it was…fine, it's just. Cas, man, I'm not gay. And you've had a  _little_  bit too much, time for the angel to sleep it off," he jokes, hoping Cas will take the let down better if he can blame it on alcohol. It can't be everyday that he gets turned down. Plus, Cas was the one to initiate it. Dean was just caught off guard, drunk, and being nice. Yea, that's it. And it's not that he isn't a really cool dude, and that kiss wasn't  _that_  bad, but…Dean just doesn't swing that way.

"You don't remem-…" Cas starts, giving him a searching look that turns closed off within a few moments. "I see. Yes, perhaps it would be better if I slept this off." With that he scoots over a bit and drags a blanket underneath him, laying down facing away from Dean.

Now that he's thinking about sleeping, Dean can feel the inevitable haze settling over his mind, dampening the freakout he'll probably have when he can form enough brain cells to really give a shit. Either he goes to sleep willingly now or will just pass out in a short while. He quickly downs a water bottle, hoping it'll stave off the worst of the hangover in the morning.

He lays down where he is, keeping his back to Cas and groans.  _This_  is why he doesn't get  _this_  drunk. It feels like he's suddenly gotten aboard a ship and is rolling along, even though the ground beneath him is definitely not moving. With each wave of discomfort his mind slips further away from rational and capable of forming real thoughts. God why is he even trying at this point.

With that he passes out, mind blissfully empty, for the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean wakes to the sound of retching followed by a slam in the gut from a headache. Groaning, he opens his eyes, taking in the sight of Sam throwing up a little ways from their camp. At least the sun isn't out yet and blinding them all. Sam keeps emptying out from all fours, gasping with the pain.

"God I'm never drinking again," he says once he crawls back to lay on his blanket, looking absolutely miserable.

"You say that now, but I guarantee you'll be back at it soon enough," Dean says, rolling over to slowly sit up. Almost the instant he moves he nearly throws up himself. Feels like someone just emptied out his skull and put an ocean in there. "Let's just get Cas to heal-"

Cas. Fuck.

Dean groans for entirely non-hangover related reasons as the blurred memories flood him. What the ever loving fuck was he thinking? And what was  _Cas_  thinking? He's too humiliated to even turn and look to see if Cas is still there. Wouldn't blame him if he took off in the night, because right now he wishes he had the ability to just fly off somewhere else.

"Cas. Buddy. Come on, help us out," Sam whines pitifully. The sound of someone moving comes from behind Dean in response.

Oh God he's still here.

"Please lower your voice Samuel."

"I've told you, don't call me-"

" _Please."_ Castiel demands, an edge creeping into his voice. Must be feeling the hangover just as bad as they are. With any luck he won't remember last night. That's more than Dean can hope for, but he lets himself hope.

A satisfied sound comes from Cas' direction, must have healed himself, and Dean builds up enough courage to turn and look at him. Woah, bad idea, nausea sweeps over him and he nearly vomits in front of the angel. When he composes himself to look up there's no mistaking it, Cas remembers it all. His face is twisted in what Dean can only describe as heartbreak, and he's so closed off. A complete 180 from the open and receptive attitude he had yesterday.

Before Dean can even begin trying to say something to break the ice Cas reaches forward and sweeps two fingers over his forehead, instantly fixing the hangover, then gets up. He repeats the process with Sam, who makes an obscene sound when he's healed.

"Screw hair of the dog, angel mojo is the best hangover cure invented."

Dean grunts an agreement and lurches up to his feet, stretching and enjoying the feeling of his joints popping and cracking. Sam's up right after him, taking in big deep sighing breaths and smiling way too much for how early it is.

The small fire has died during the night, the coals sitting in a depressing black heap in the dirt. The sun's started to poke up on the horizon. Apparently it's caught Castiel's eye, he's standing a few paces away from their blankets watching the light increase.

Dean should go over and say something. He should apologize, or explain, or just  _something_. Without the pounding hangover he can collect his thoughts a little better, replay what happened and what he said, and wince at how monumentally shitty he handled things last night. How do you even  _start_  that conversation? 'Sorry we kissed. Can we still be bros?' Maybe it'll come to him if he just starts.

He takes a step forward but is stopped by Sam, "Think we could check the traps now? Would be nice to get back to civilization soon, I'm starving."

"Yea yea, we'll head out. Let's tear down camp."

It takes them almost no time to get the few blankets packed away and their trash cleaned up. Cas stays put while they work, but once the last thing is added to the Impala he comes back over to collect his jacket. He brushes the dirt from it then climbs into the backseat, pointedly not meeting Deans eye's as they start out.

He definitely needs to talk to him, even though he'd give anything not to. Cas is probably taking everything the wrong way with as socially inept as he is, and Dean doesn't want to risk losing his friendship now that they've just started getting so close. Fortunately, he has plenty of time to reflect on it while they work their way through the traps. Which worked surprisingly well, despite Dean's skepticism about the whole jackalope thing.

He sits in the car and waits while the other two collect the traps and dispatch of the little rabbit-deer hybrids, using the time to think. He replays the night's events, trying to make sense of what his drunken mind barely understood. A lot of the memories are a bit hazy from the alcohol, but there's no mistaking it, Castiel kissed him and he kissed Castiel right back.

Thing is, he doesn't even feel grossed out about it like he would expect. It just feels, normal, like he would feel kissing any girl. Except with girls it's unemotional and just a physical fulfillment, no real feelings behind it. There was no forgetting the eagerness with which Cas had come at him, like he was the only water for miles.

He refuses to explore the train of thought, but he knows that he'd enjoyed it last night. Maybe it's because he actually knows Cas, or maybe it's because he's only honest when he's drunk or angry, but kissing him had been satisfying in a way he didn't expect. And it's not like he's now hankering for angelic dick or something, the thought of that alone makes him uncomfortable, but there's no other way for him to explain it to himself. He liked it, Cas liked it, but that's as far as this goes.

Sam yanking the door open and flopping into the passenger seat startles him out of his thoughts, so he puts the identity crisis on standby and drives to the next pull off. Cas has been careful not to go with him to take down the traps, but this time Dean's thinking ahead. "Come on Cas, our turn."

He catches a flash of annoyed blue eyes in the rear view before swinging out and heading to where they set things up last night. It takes a few moments but the back door squeaks open and footsteps follow him out toward where a jackalope is currently flailing with its hind feet in the rope.

"Look Cas, we gotta talk."

He receives no answer, and when he turns to look Castiel has headed towards the farther snare. Dammit he never does feelings talks and the one time he does the other person won't even participate. With an exasperated sound he follows after.

"I'm serious, this is something we should talk about."

"I'm not sure what you are referring to Dean."

"Oh come on, you know exactly what I'm talking about, don't play dumb."

Cas whips around, annoyance seething off of him, "What is there to discuss? What happened was a mistake, it made you uncomfortable, and it won't happen again. Can we please finish this job so that I may be able to return to my duties elsewhere."

"Well yea it was a weird moment, but I never said I was uncomfortable. Mostly confused, and I don't want to just blow it off. Now come on, work with me here."

The fight goes out of Cas just as quickly as it started and his shoulders slump while he shakes his head. "I don't know where to begin this discussion."

"You and me both. Let's just talk while we work," Dean suggests. Always easier to share feelings when your hands are busy and you're not just staring at each other. That's how women do it. Men need the metaphorical distance to keep their barriers up. He stoops down and makes quick work of the poor animal's neck then begins untangling the rope. "Start easy then. It was your first kiss, right? Did you enjoy it?"

It takes Cas a moment to respond, and when he does its with obvious hesitance, "Yes I did," he accepts the rope that's handed to him and begins coiling it, "Did you?"

"I actually did. Which is surprising. And I'm not gonna lie to you, was one of the best ones I've had in a  _long_  time," the rest of the rope is coiled and they move on to the next trap that appears to be empty, "Should I take you initiating that as you have more than friendship feelings for me or was it just the alcohol?"

There's an even longer pause as Castiel considers the question. They walk in silence, and Dean let's the quiet continue, not wanting to rush things. "It was both. I do have certain...feelings. They aren't ones I understand well, and had not planned on acting on them. The alcohol helped that particular holdup."

"Really?" Dean asks in genuine surprise, stopping to give Cas a smile which seems to confuse the hell out of him, "Well I'm flattered."

"You aren't...angry?"

"Of course not! You clearly have good taste." That gets him a barely concealed eye roll, "I already said I enjoyed it, even if guys aren't my cup of tea. I'll have that particular freak out later. But yea, no man, I'm cool with it. Just no trying to get in my pants," he says with a wink. Cas makes a small gasp and blushes at that. Laughing he walks past the angel to start tearing down the next trap.

"You...you're...I would never do that," Cas says indignantly.

"Just messing with you, I know you wouldn't."

"Good," Cas walks off towards the last snare then says over his shoulder, "I believe it would be best to not mention this to Sam."

"You're telling me," Dean mutters under his breath. He doesn't even want to imagine the kind of teasing they'd both get if Sam knew. He takes his time collecting his rope and deciding if this conversation is going well or if he's accidentally leading Cas on. That's the last thing he wants to do, wouldn't be fair, but he's never had this conversation with anyone before, and  _certainly_  not with a guy.

By the time he stands up and squints over to Cas the angel is coming his way bearing his lengths of rope. He looks much more relaxed than he had a few minutes ago. Guess Dean's better at these things than he gives himself credit for.

"So we good?"

Cas gives one of his barely there smiles then nods, "Yes, we're good."

"Awesome, 'cause our team's way too good to split up. Oh yea, and don't just run off because of this. I know you have other duties to do, or whatever, but I invited you along because I think you're fun to hunt and hang with. I want you here."

The small smile spreads by a few millimeters. For Cas it's pretty much as close to a full smile as he gets, and Dean's struck by how inviting the expression looks on him. "Then I won't go and sulk," he says matter of factly, "I am glad that you are so congenial about all this."

Dean's just as shocked himself at how well he's handling this. Generally he steers well clear of anything similar to gay, so being this rational about his best friend kissing him is about as surprising as finding out Cas' brother invented platypus'. Not that he's homophobic, just...never understood the draw. And he's spent too much time among overly manly men who were the hateful type, closed him up on the topic.

"Will you two assholes hurry up, I'm going to starve to death!"

"Shut it, you aren't going to die!" Dean yells back. Sam just flicks him off from the car. "Let's get back before the princess faints."

Fortunately the traps seemed to have done a fantastic job at culling the jackalope population. Of the 25 they set they managed to dispatch of 18 of the things. They left the bodies behind where they were, plenty of coyotes and birds that would be happy to polish off some fresh meat.

Sam jokes that he wishes he had kept a pair of the little antlers and had them mounted somewhere on the car, which is as close as you can get to blasphemy in the Winchester family. Dean nearly kicks him out into the middle of the desert, but Cas calms him down a bit with his steady even reasoning. Can't believe Sammy would even suggest something so heinous.

Even with their talk earlier Dean is a little wary of Castiel. It's hard to just block out what happened, and even harder to block out the voice in his head screaming that he's become a flamboyant raging homosexual because he wasn't disgusted by it.

Which, rationally, is the biggest load of bullshit he's ever thought, but it's one thing to think something through and another thing entirely to get his emotions to agree.

Once out of the park they stop for breakfast to subdue the oversized baby and call Bobby to get back to the grind of planning the next hunt. No matter what the personal crisis, time marches on.

* * *

If you ask Dean how the next month went he would most likely grunt and say 'fine'. To his mind it was nothing unusual. Took out a couple vengeful spirits, investigated anything that seemed suspicious, had a few good nights of poker that resulted in several hundred dollars.

There were even a few girls that shared his bed. The same faceless kind of beauties he always got who left once the fun was over, or expected him to leave if it was at their place.

And yea, sure, there were multiple nights he couldn't remember, too drunk to find the keys to the motel room. And there were weird dreams, and even more self-loathing than usual. But you can't always have it all.

All in all not a bad month.

Of course, if you ask Sam or Castiel how the month had gone, they would have a different story to tell.

The hunting would be shared in the same way, and the poker hustling. But they would be more honest, more aware, than Dean himself was. The drinking had picked up. More than once Sam had to pull his brother into the room, and one time even woke up to find him cursing up a storm because he'd forgotten where the motel key was. He was already in the room, and for some reason thought the bathroom was the front door. Sam suspects something more than alcohol was involved in that particular sad moment.

Sam hadn't been there every minute though, there were plenty of times that he was out doing his own thing. And even with Cas stopping by every few days, even doing a couple hunts with them, he couldn't be expected to watch over Dean all the time. Plus, he and Dean had an unsettled air about them when they were in the same room together. Lots of avoiding each others eyes.

Which is why Sam had decided to meet with the angel and talk.

He waited until another evening when Dean came back drunk and exhausted, then waited for him to pass out. Didn't want him thinking they were going behind his back. Which they kind of were, but whatever, it's for his own good.

Sending up a quick prayer to let Cas know he wanted to talk, he went out into the parking lot. Cas was already waiting for him by the Impala, standing rigidly.

"You didn't waste any time," he says waking over to lean again the car and look over the angel.

"You know I am happy to come as soon as I can."

"That's true, just always thought you'd only do that for Dean."

"I like to think that we know each other better than that by now," Castiel relaxes his shoulders a touch. And it's true, they certainly do have a better understanding of one another. Especially since Sam decided to make up his own opinion on the guy.

"I'll cut to the chase. Something's going on with Dean. He hasn't been this bad since Dad died, and I don't know what to do. You've noticed, right?"

Castiel lets out a small sigh and looks over at the motel door. "Yes I have noticed. I had hoped he would talk about what is bothering him, but I don't believe he will without prodding."

"Any idea what it is that's bothering him? There's only so much he talks to me about, and I know you guys are...close," he phrases as delicately as he can.

"We aren't any closer than-"

"I saw. That night in Arizona when we all got wasted," Castiel turns wide terrified eyes back to him, "thought I was just imagining it, but with how much he avoids looking at you and now all this, I'm not so sure it was the alcohol."

Castiel stares him down a moment longer before looking at the ground in a defeated way. "You knew, and you have said nothing."

"We all have secrets we'd like to keep. That's one I figured he needed to have from me."

Castiel takes that in for a moment before responding quietly, "It won't happen again. We discussed what had occurred and ended the talk on good terms."

"You mean he didn't freak out on you? No bitching or hitting?"

"No."

"Not even a bit of name calling?"

"No. He said it was a mistake, that he wasn't upset, and we should move on."

Dean deserves far more credit than Sam gives him. At the very least he'd expect Dean to be rude about it. "Even if he's acting normally, there's no way he's okay with it. It's bothering him, if the bottles he downs are anything to go by. You need to talk to him, get to the bottom of it. I don't think his liver can take much more of keeping it in."

"Get Dean to open up about feelings. Should be easy," Cas deadpans. Takes Sam a second to recognize the sarcasm.

"Did you just?"

"Spending time around your brother has taught me a thing or two," Castiel says with a small smirk.

"Just promise me you'll talk to him, ok?"

Castiel returns to his normal serious self, "Yes of course. I only hope that a discussion will be beneficial and not make things worse. I will try to choose an opportune time."

* * *

It's one week into December and Dean does not have time for this.

He's weaving in between blows, trying desperately to land one himself on the demon he's fighting, but not finding an in. The demon knife they've managed to hold on to from that Ruby chick won't do shit if he can't land anything.

"Sammy!" He bellows in the general direction of his brother. "Time warp!"

He's not pulling the retreat card because they can't handle themselves, he's doing it so they can regroup. Thank god they came up with code names for things long ago.

"Just call Cas dammit!"

"No time just go!"

With a quick twist out of the two sets of arms trying to get a hold on him he sprints out of the warehouse door into a hallway. He doesn't even need to turn to look if Sam has followed him, knows he'll do what he's told, and sure enough a few moments later he can hear Sam's heavy breathing and heavier footfalls.

They run through the hall, barreling toward the exit, but don't stop even when they're outside. Just keep going, one foot in front of another, until they make it back to the car half a mile away.

Dean stops, gasping with hands on his knees, and eyes Sam who is doing the same.

"The hell...was that? Why didn't you call Cas?" Sam says between deep breaths.

 _Because I don't know how to deal with him_ , Dean thinks but doesn't say. It's been getting so awkward being around the angel. Every time he looks at him he thinks about that damn kiss and how enthusiastic Cas had been and how much he liked it and damn it! He doesn't have time for this.

"Look let's just get out of here and figure out another plan. They'll be ready for us next time."

Sam grumbles about that but he just blocks it out, getting in the car and hastening off toward the abandoned house they'd commandeered for the hunt. Mostly he just wants a drink.

In no time they've weaved around the area enough to throw off any followers and then make for the house. First thing Dean reaches for when they're back is the flask stashed in his duffle. A quick swallow or two will boost him back up for planning.

"You're drinking? Now?" Sam asks in the most irritating way possible.

"Mind your own business bitch. Deserve it after nearly getting killed by those-"

"You know what. You do that. I'm going for a walk," Sam spits out as he slams out the door.

"Whatever," Dean mutters to himself. Let the big baby pout by himself. Better than having to watch it going on here.

Sam doesn't even know what he's complaining about. They don't need Cas to come bail them out of shit. They don't need him at all. Lasted years on their own without him. Dean doesn't need him.

He leans over on the little table in the kitchen area and looks over their notes. It's the only furniture left by whoever owned this place before abandoning it. By their calculations there should have only been two demons tops, not five. One got taken out though, so guess it's only four now. Or maybe Sam got another when he wasn't looking? Can't plan without all the information.

As soon as it's been 10 minutes Dean makes up his mind to go after Sam. No sense wasting time while he tries to prove some dumb point.

Dean stalks outside, looking around the front of the lot for sign of his bitchy little brother. Maybe he actually did go for a walk. He heads out toward the road, completely empty in the middle of the night, and looks up and down the street. There's only a few streetlights interspersed between the trees lining the road. He thinks he spots a splash of red flannel in the shadows about 50 yards to his right, and heads that way.

As he gets closer he can make out the outline of Sam, hunched over a little and mumbling something. Damn it, who the hell is he on the phone with at this time of night?

Scratch that, he's not on the phone at all. He's neck deep on some brunette.

"Seriously dude? I mean, I get wanting some but we are in the middle of a..." He doesn't even get to finish the thought, let alone the sentence, as Sam turns to him with wide frightened eyes and a river of blood dripping down his chin.

"Dean?" Sam doesn't even have the decency to sound guilty when he speaks. The girl flicks her eyes black then promptly hightails it into the woods. Sam turns toward where she went, "Ruby! Wait! Just...fuck."

Dean's brain and breathing start back, though just barely. "Ruby? That...Sam what have you done?"

Apparently Sam just now realized that he should have some semblance of decency and tries to wipe blood off his face with the cuff of his sleeve. It just ends up smearing and turning his skin a sickening color. "Dean this isn't what you think."

"Oh really. So you weren't just sucking down demon blood like some fucking vamp?!"

"No! I mean I was but, it's to help us Dean!"

"Help?!" Dean's voice nearly rises two octaves with disbelief. As though this was helpful to them. He needs at least four more drinks before he can handle this.

Sam huffs, looking frustrated instead of sorry, which is how he  _should_  be feeling. "See I knew you wouldn't understand. We've known about this Dean. This...stain that has always been there. But Ruby's shown me how I can use it for  _good_. How else do you think we've gotten out of sticky demon situations?"

"Oh I'm sure she's done a lot of things Sammy, but she's a demon for God's sake! We know how that shit goes, and it's not good!"

"Will you just listen to yourself? Do you even know how much she's helped us? A hell of a lot more than even Cas has."

Dean takes a small step back at that, sizing up his idiot brother. There was no reason to drag Castiel into this, Sam's just throwing that out there to push his buttons. Well he's had just about enough of it, and clearly Sam isn't the best judge of anything if  _this_  is what he's gotten himself into. "So  _she's_  the reason you hate him, isn't it? She's been telling out all sorts of lies and you just eat 'em up. The fuck Sam."

"She…Dean do you have any idea of what we're getting into messing around with  _angels_?" Sam asks earnestly. "Even  _demons_  didn't know they still existed until he showed up. They just left the world to rot and ruin, and you want to just go be buddy buddy with one?"

"He's our  _friend_  Sam, she's  _using_  you!"

"If anyone is using someone then  _I_  am using  _her!_ With her blood I can take out any demon, and still leave the body they're possessing intact! Do you have any idea how many people we can help this way? How many we can save?"

Sam takes a few steps toward him, fully stepping into the streetlight. His eyes look nearly manic with how much passion he's throwing into his little speech. All it does is make Dean feel even sicker.

"Castiel might be alright Dean, but we don't know anything about the other angels. Isn't it suspicious, how he's the only one we've seen? I know you have feelings for him but-"

Without a moment to consider his actions Dean slams his fist into Sam's temple, hard, knocking him unconscious. He catches him on the way down, trying to minimize the damage. He manages to get him to the ground, gently resting his head on the asphalt. With the fight gone from his face it's nearly heartbreaking to even look at Sam. Blood smeared on his chin and mouth, but still looking like such a little kid in Dean's eye. Like the innocent 6 year old who would beg for hours to get a popsicle or who would drag the blankets up over both their heads and insist that Dean pretend they were camping.

Even recently, Sam seemed just fine. Maybe he did go off by himself a lot more. And yea, maybe he did have an attitude more than usual. But he wasn't doing  _this_ , was he? Is this what he'd been doing when he left and Dean never even  _suspected_? How could he have let things get this bad? How did he not see the signs?

"Castiel," he says as both an answer to his questions and as a request for help.

A soft breeze comes from behind his left shoulder along with a quiet, "Hello Dean."

He doesn't move at first, knowing full well what the answer to his next question will be, but not wanting to know more than he already does. "You knew?"

Shoes crunch in a wide circle around Sam as Castiel comes to crouch in front of him, dragging his trench on the ground. There's hesitation and sorrow in his eyes. "Some secrets were not mine to tell. I fear that we have all been deceiving each other in some way."

Dean looks back down at his little brother and brushes his bangs off his face like he's been doing for years, fighting back the urge to lash out. But it's not Cas' fault, it's not even Sam's. He should have been there for him, should have been the brother he needed.

"Take us to Bobby's. I don't know how to fix this, and need him safe while I search."

"Of course, Dean."

Fingers rest on his forehead and the other hand goes to Sam's, and with a quick gut wrenching twist they're kneeling over Sam in Sioux Falls. Dean looks behind him toward the office, and there's Bobby at his desk not even looking a little bit surprised at their entrance.

The old hunter gives a big sigh then goes to pour another couple fingers of whiskey, "Well, what kinda trouble you boys brought me this time?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for how long it took to get this written and posted. My only excuses are grad school eating my time and Evernote deleting the damn thing a few times. But let me state this now, I will never stop this story. It needs to get written…just might take some time.
> 
> Also, I can be found on [Tumblr](http://soy-nowater-chai.tumblr.com), so feel free to message me your demands for new stuff…I need that kick in the butt!!

"Bobby we got a big problem."

 "Bigger than you three showing up in the middle of the night when I'm researching for Rufus?"  

"Yea, actually.  Sammy's been drinking demon blood," Dean lays it out, hating himself for needing to drag Bobby into their mess, but he's the only family he can turn to.  And this is  _way_  out of his league to handle alone.  

The old man's face quickly pales.  "Fool boy.  That can't be good for him." Bobby gets up with a small grunt and comes around the desk, arms crossed.  "Well don't just leave him on the rug, get him in a bed.  I trust he's not dead?"

Dean’s way ahead of him, trying to lift Sam to get him upstairs.  Cas crouches down and helps, making the task much easier.  "He's just knocked out.  Couldn't get him to calm down and he was spouting off all kinds of shit."

"I'm sure he'll be positively sparkling with joy when he wakes up," Bobby grumbles, scanning his book stacks for a couple of tomes on the way back to his chair.  "You two take care of him and come back down, I want to know what's goin' on."

It's surprisingly easy to maneuver up the stairs, Dean suspects Cas is using a little more strength than he is so that they don't accidentally drop Sam on his head, and in no time he's been placed on the bed in the spare room.  They stand on opposite sides of the bed, watching as Sam’s chest rises with each slow intake of air.

"Surprised none of that brought him around."

"I've kept him asleep while we carried him," Cas places a hand on Sam's forehead, "I believe it would be best for us to discuss this with Bobby before beginning to talk to Sam again.”

"Yea, suppose so."

Normally Dean would be pissed at Cas for forcing sleep or anything on them, but it’s for the best this time.  He's not looking forward to the little family intervention.  It’s almost funny how many of those they’ve had over the years for each of them in turn. 

Looking down at his brother it all suddenly hits Dean again just what they're dealing with.  The overhead lights in the room show what the darkness in the street had hidden earlier.  Dried blood in smeared lines down Sam's chin, even more speckled on the collar of his undershirt.

"God Sammy, what am I gonna do," Dean whispers as he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, running a hand down his brothers arm.  He thinks back to the time he stitched up a knife wound on Sam’s forearm, where his hand is right now.  Rolling up the sleeve of Sam’s flannel there it is, a faded white scar that looks only a little bit lopsided.  It’s usually so easy to fix things.  Suture things up, throw a bottle of aspirin or whiskey over to help the pain, sit and listen to Sam’s problems.  

But this could be a whole new ballgame.  

He feels Cas come up behind him and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  “You know that this is not your fault Dean,” though Cas himself doesn’t sound all that sure in his statement.

He lets the weight of Cas’ hand ground him back down out of his thoughts.  He’ll have the angels help, and Bobby’s.  They can get through this and pull Sam back from whatever dark place he’s lost himself in.

“Come on, let’s get this emotion fest over with,” he gets up to go, letting the hand slip from his shoulder.  He wants it back.

They tromp down the stairs back into the study and Dean promptly flings himself onto the couch under the window.  Cas awkwardly stands at the other end of the sofa, looking mildly anxious. 

"Well, get to it I guess," Bobby solemnly passes a glass of whiskey over to Dean and gives him room to talk when he's ready.  Not that he ever will be. 

Bobby listens patiently while Dean retells how he found Sam with Ruby.  He's too weary to put much emotion into it, keeping feelings locked up for the time being.  Surprisingly the old man doesn’t react much beyond looking incredibly disappointed.  “Figured you’d be more torn up about this.  Don’t tell me you knew too.”

“Excuse me for not sobbing into my hanky.  Fact is Sam’s been weird for a while, assumed it was on account of you goin’ down south, but it’s kept up since you came back.  And what do you mean ‘too’?”  Bobby gives Cas a pointed glare.

“Yea, that’s something I’d like to know,” Dean turns to look Cas in the eye, but the angel won’t look at either of them.

“I have sensed the corruption within Sam from the moment I met him.  I had incorrectly assumed you knew.  When I realized that you were unaware I was unsure whether to discuss it with you.”

“So you just kept quiet and let my little brother drink fucking demon blood?” Dean says with clenched teeth, barely keeping anger from his tone.

“Your relationship with your brother is just that,  _yours_.  I did not feel comfortable damaging it.  You are both grown adults, I do not need to police your lives.”

Cas finally meets his gaze, looking appropriately apologetic, which cools the fire in Dean.  And yea, Dean gets what he means.  He would have resented Cas if he’d blown apart him and Sam with this, not really his place to meddle in their lives too much.  But fuck it all, the angel is a part of the team now, and teammates tell each other these kind of things.

“I’m not mad at you Cas, I’m just…mad at this whole damn situation.  And for future reference, you’re a part of this family now, you can tell us whatever you need to.”

Bobby cuts in before they can get anymore sappy, “This is all nice and whatnot but does anyone know what we’re in for here?  You ever even heard about what demon blood’ll do to a human, Cas?”

“I have not, though I cannot imagine it is anything pleasant.  However, I have not spent much of my time involving myself in human matters, so I may not be the best resource.  I will ask around when I am next with my brethren.”

“I’ll get to digging through some of these,” Bobby gestures to the little pile of books he made on the edge of his desk, “Not sure if they’ll have anything but might as well look.”

For a moment they’re silent, just quietly thinking to themselves, before Dean drops the next order of business.  “What are we going to do with him when he wakes up?  Cause he was  _not_  thinking about stopping this when I found him.”

Cas sighs from his left and drops onto the arm of the couch, “I believe that is a plan you two will be better at forming.”

“Yea but don’t go flying off.  I have business with you next,” Dean gives Cas a long look, willing the angel to stay put.  

“Well,” Bobby starts, “since we don’t know what the hell this stuff is doing to him and he doesn’t seem to want to stop, we don’t have too many options.  I guess we see how talking to him goes, try to change his mind.”

“That didn’t go so well last time-“

“This time you won’t be jumping him in the middle of things.  Sam’s a reasonable kid, if we’re understanding and gentle enough he might come around.”

“I guess.”

“Plus I’ve got all kinds of blackmail on him.  Didn’t raise you boys for nothin’ all those years,” Bobby smirks.  And Dean’ll give him that, there’s been plenty of times that Bobby’s talked them both down from whatever ledge they’d gotten on by throwing the right kind of emotional plea at them.  “But we’re not gonna know how things will go til he’s up.  So you two rest or whatever, and hope for the best.

Dean gives a grunt as he stands, feeling the fatigue hit him and making his mood sour further, but there’s more to be done.  “Alright, your turn angel.”

“Take it outside you two.  I got researching to do and  _don't_  need to listen to your crap while I’m translating.”

“Yea yea, we’re going,” Dean grumbles, grabbing Cas by the sleeve as he heads toward the backdoor.  

He drags the angel out into the yard, making a beeline for a little cove made from scrap cars so they can talk in private.  As soon as they round the corner he shoves Cas forward by the sleeve then hisses, “Out with it.  The fuck else are you keeping from me?”

Cas doesn’t answer immediately, instead rearranges his sleeve and looks around sheepishly. 

“Cas!  I'm not playin' around tonight.  It just better not be worse than this shit with Sammy because I cannot take more today."

Cas looks up pensively, "I wouldn't say that it's bad.  In my opinion it's a positive.  And I believe you would agree."

God, Dean doesn't have time for this secretive crap tonight.  He huffs and shifts his weight from foot to foot.  "If it's so great how come you haven't told me.  And quit stalling Cas."

"I'm not allowed to!  I wish I could, but I just can't." Cas says, raising his voice far above usual.  It makes Dean take a step back nervously and give the angel all his attention.  Cas seems to grimace at his small outburst and starts again more calmly, "I'm not supposed to tell you, Dean.  They're orders from above me."

"Well screw 'em Cas, tell me."

"I can't-"

With a frustrated growl Dean rushes forward, throwing Cas back against the nearest car and holding him there with his weight.  It's a testament to their messed up friendship that the angel doesn't fight back or kill him right then and there, and Dean will take full advantage of it while he can, putting venom into his words as he half whispers them right next to Cas' face.  "Like hell you can't.  You are such a hypocrite, you know that?  Spend all your time down here with us, never acting like Heaven is important, not even talking about it, and then use it as some bullshit defense when you don't want to tell me something.  Now tell me!"

Castiel looks nearly terrified, though of what Dean can't begin to imagine.  He could break out of the hold in a heartbeat if he wanted to.  His blue eyes are wide and searching Dean for who knows what, but then he seems to come to some sort of decision, a small breath leaving him in a sigh.  

"I know how you escaped Hell Dean."

"Oh I remember.  Heaven had to 'implement plans' and leave my little brother out of it.  See what it drove him to?"

Cas raises his right hand and places it on Dean's upper arm, right over the scar he's borne since leaving Hell.  He's staring to get the uncomfortable feeling that he's not going to like what he hears.  The way Cas is looking at him is too intense, too familiar, and tinged with too much sadness. 

"Sam made his choice Dean, it wasn't for us to intervene.  But it was decided that  _you_  were to be saved.  I know how because I was there.  I was the one sent to rescue you from damnation.  It was I who rebuilt you, and it is my mark you bear."

Dean's stomach drops.  Like he's just breached the hill of a roller coaster and is rapidly falling.  He takes his hands off Cas and stumbles back, mind reeling.  Of all the reasons he and Sam had come up with for how Heaven saved him, sending in  _Cas_  was not one of them.  Sure, the idea of Cas having  _something_  to do with it made sense, but being  _that_  involved…just seemed beyond him.

"I believe it was that connection that drove you to find me all those months ago."

Dean searches his memory for confirmation, and it certainly seems true enough.  He'd been drawn to that church with no evidence as to why.  He'd felt that presense, that calming effect that soothed the itch under his skin.  And it had been  _Cas_  the entire time.  And those weird dreams, were they just this  _brand_ , because that's exactly what it was, messing with his hand and wanting him to go to the one who had claimed him.

Another thought hit him and made the dropping sensation turn to nausea.  Was this why he'd been friends with him in the first place?  Why he feels comfortable around the angel, was even alright with that kiss?  Oh God was that why he'd liked it?  Some bizarre angel form of roofies, making him complacent and willing?  Why he thinks about Cas all the damn time?

A hard shake brought him out of his thoughts, and he looks up into Cas' worried eyes.  He looks like a puppy waiting for a beating.  That expression isn't one a vengeful person would make.  Castiel has never been anything but kind and friendly, and never tried to get in the way of Dean's life.  Even when  _that_  happened last month he only seemed concerned that Dean would hate him for it.  No, he was relatively safe.  Terrified.  But safe.  He takes stock and realizes how close he is to panicking.  He starts taking some deep breaths and stands a little straighter.  Cas drops his hand and looks away, giving him space to get himself under control.

"The hell really is this thing," he asks, gesturing to his shoulder, "Don't you dare tell me this is screwing with my head."

"It isn't Dean.  It simply signifies our bond to each other."

"Bond?  Yea, again, what does that even mean?”

“It is difficult to explain.  The physical mark is nothing, just a scar.  But the agreement that went with it-“

“Agreement?” Dean sputters a little, mind running in one direction only, “So this is like some kind of demon shit?  I made some deal with you so you’d save me and I got  _this_  to prove it?"

“No!  It’s...,” Cas starts then looks around, almost searching for the words in the air and looking flustered, “It’s something that happened by accident.  I did not intend to mark you, however it was an intense fight to get away from Hell’s forces, and taking your soul into my Grace was the only way to ensure survival for us both.  I apologize if it offends you.”

“Offends me?” Total opposite actually, Dean’s always been proud of it.  “I could care less about another scar marking me up, what I  _care_  about is if you are controlling me with it.”

“I would never do that Dean.”

“Then what the hell?!  Tell me what the fuck this is about  _now_  or I swear I will find some way to  _make_  you!”  Dean yells, getting into Cas’ space again to try and physically intimidate him a little.

 Which was a dumb thing to do.

Blue eyes harden with power, patience limit finally reached, and before Dean can deflect Castiel has another grip on him, grabbing and holding his wrist with immoveable force.  Dean watches with fear as Castiel reaches for the front of his button down with his other hand and begins yanking the left side of it off while he lectures, “When I brought you out of Hell you were nothing but a scrap of a soul, barely clinging to coherency and with no physical body remaining.”  Giving no space for Dean to get away Castiel pulls his arm from the sleeve of his shirt, once again getting a grip on his wrist before shoving the small sleeve of his undershirt up to reveal the handprint that had been hidden there.  Dean’s never felt more exposed, even though it’s only his arm that’s out in the night air.  “Do you know how time consuming it is to craft a body?  To temper down a soul until it resembles its former self?  It took _time_  and  _patience_  and  _care_  to make sure every piece of you was as it should be.  I didn’t ask to do it.  I  _never_  ask.  My place is with Uriel, leading our garrison when necessary and maintaining our post.  You humans with your wars, and lust, and greed, it’s  _infuriating_.”

Dean can’t bring himself to look away.  For a moment that feels like an eternity he looks into Cas’ eyes and feels small and more afraid than he ever has.  Being on the rack was easier. 

The frustration slowly seeps from Castiel’s features, but the power remains.  Continuing to hold Dean fast by the wrist he places his other hand over his mark.  Dean half expects to feel some sort of physical response, but there’s nothing.

Except, yes, yes there is.  Nothing physical, nothing  _real_  even.  Just a nagging thought in the back of his brain that he lets himself get distracted by 

_A bizarre memory, of Cas touching him in the same way, but with such different meaning.  One hand on his shoulder, the other on his wrist, standing over Dean where he's laying down.  Cas giving him a soft smile and saying something, though he can't remember what.  Like all memories it's a fleeting thing, just that vague impression and the feeling of calm and joy._

Cas, the real Cas, starts talking again, getting Dean’s attention out of his memories.  "I never wanted to be involved with humanity, but that is no longer true.  Piecing you together, laying out your veins, placing everything in its proper place, it was eye opening.  You, all of you, are so fragile-"

"I'm not break-"

"Yes you are," Cas slides his hand from shoulder to neck, placing a finger right over his carotid, "a simple push and that would be it.  And yet, you willingly threw yourself into the fire for your brother.  Bore the torture and taunting.  You're entire life is spent on the front lines, protecting.  You may be fragile, but you are by no means weak." 

Dean relaxes slightly as Cas removes his hands from him.  As much as Cas' words warm him in some deep part of his mind, he can't help but be embarrassed.  He scuffs the dirt with the tip of a boot.  A nervous habit picked up from Bobby that John always hated. 

"So this," he gestures at his shoulder, "isn't some kind of mind control?"

"No.  It's a mark from an angel who shares their grace with a mortal.  Which is a very personal thing to do.  At first I thought of it as a necessary evil, but now I am proud of what we have shared."

Dean grunts in understanding, still feeling uncomfortable. 

"Dean.  I tell you this not because I want to upset you, but because we need to talk.  You know we do.  Sam has filled me in on your well-being recently.  I hope that being open with you about our shared past will help make this easier."

If Dean could run inside like a kid running from timeout he would.  It's really not fair that they were conspiring behind his back.  And ok yea, maybe drinking so much wasn't the best plan to ignore his  _feelings._ He shudders at the thought of the word itself.  And there was that one night the girl from the bar gave him something to help ease his mind.  He'd chosen not to ask what it was exactly, just opened his mouth and swallowed what she put in.

"I don't want to talk about it Cas.  I don't even want to think about it."

"Is that what you've been doing?  Trying to run from your own thoughts?"

No shit.  "Obviously.  I'm just so fucking confused Cas, and I can't deal with this, and hunt, and now apparently keep an eye on Sam.  It's just too much." 

"And yet you aren't handling it well, Dean."  Cas shuffles around a little before moving to sit on the trunk of a nearby car.  He looks tired, eyes weary and almost pleading for Dean get on with things.  "Maybe I should try a different approach of explaining the problem. 

“God, I don't have time for this," Dean whispers to himself as he leans back on a car facing the angel.  Cas ignores his comment if he noticed at all.

"You may have skipped this passage in the Bible, but I believe it explains this well.  'How can you say to your brother, 'let me take the speck from your eye', when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?  You must first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.'"

"Thanks for the Sunday school lesson.  Does this have a point?"

Castiel gives a long suffering sigh and places his head in his hands, "It means that you must care for yourself before you can care for others, Dean.  If you want to help your brother then you must be sure that you yourself are well.  And you are most definitely not.  Now please, talk with me, I don't believe you'll find that we are so different in our thoughts.  What are you confused about?"

"What am I not confused about?" Dean snaps sarcastically.

"Dean." Cas warns and raises his head to pin Dean with a withering look.

Damn it, might as well do this like removing a bandaid.  Go fast and get it over with.  "Ok fine.  I don't know, it's just, I think about you a lot.  More than I do about other friends.  And having you around is pretty much the best thing ever.  And I want you around all the time.  Plus I keep having these weird flashes of...I don't know.  It's exactly how I get around a girl I like, and I mean  _really_  like, not just a fling, except you're a guy.  And I'm  _not_  gay."

The last word hangs heavy between them and make Dean feel mildly sick.  Personally he has no problem with others who are gay, he just never saw himself as that, and still doesn't.  Plus, after a lifetime of being around surly homophobics he's aware of the prejudices that come with the territory.  All the mouthing off he'd get from other hunters, if they'd give him the time of day at all.  

"So then tell me Dean.  Were you really okay with me kissing you?  Or did you just say that to try and make me feel less awkward?"

He quickly looks up and takes in the sadness mixed in with the exhaustion in Cas' eyes.  It pains him more than his own internal crisis, and he knows what he needs to do to erase both of their doubts and start them on a better course to  _dealing_  with this.  He has to show his feelings.  God help them both for the train wreck that usually is 

He lurches forward, getting into Castiel's space.  The angel seems surprised and wary, waiting for a signal of what to do or how to react.  

For lack of a better way to explain himself he kisses him.  His usual bravado and confidence gone, it's awkward, he didn't get the angle right, and Cas takes a moment to react and lean into it.  

But oh, that spark.  That overwhelming calmness that settles over him, tunnel visioning his mind til the soft lips under his own are the only thing he thinks of.  Few things get his attention this way, so it's gotta mean something more than he'll admit to even himself.  Only a few seconds in and he’s already in over his head.

He pulls back for a breath, using the moment to break this off and make sure he didn't cross a line.  

No, Cas is definitely on board.  The exhaustion gone from his face and his eyes glued to Dean's face, scrutinizing him.  Probably waiting for an explanation. 

"If I hadn't liked it I wouldn't have done it again.”

“That’s true,” Cas says rather breathlessly, “Can we do that again?”

And without hesitation he complies, pulling Cas back in with a hand to the back of his neck and melting into it.  For once not needing drink or something stronger to quiet his mind and enjoy.

They kiss for a few minutes, slowly getting used to the way each other moves.  Dean finds it endearing the way Cas hitches his breath as though he’s surprised every time Dean takes charge.  And it really should feel different, kissing a guy, but it’s surprisingly normal.  Maybe a little rougher around the edges thanks to both of their stubble, but it’s a good kind of scrape.  It adds an extra bit of wrongness, and he loves it. 

His heart feeling relieved and full of warmth he pulls back, a firm hand on Cas’ chest when he tries to reach out for more.  “We can’t stay out here all night man, and we still gotta finish this conversation.  Where do we stand?”

“Yes, you’re right,” the angel sounds disappointed, but he squares his shoulders and lets Dean lead once more.

“Ok so, just that we’re clear, we aren’t dating.  This isn’t…I mean it’s nice and I like it and you know,” he glances away, lost for words, but Cas turns his face back with a gentle hand

“I understand Dean.  There’s no need for us to label anything.  I have feelings for you, and you have feelings for me.  That is enough for now.  We can see where those take us.”

Dean couldn’t have said it better himself if he’d tried.  And thank whatever gods were watching over him that the angel was on the same page.  "Heh, that's good, cause I don't know what the hell I'm even doing with this."

Cas quirks up his lips in the closest thing to a smile Dean's ever seen in real life.  Not a toothy grin like in his dreams.  He feels himself grinning back. 

Before this entire ordeal becomes  _too_  much of a chick flick he clears his throat and steps back.  Cas seems to get that the moment has passed, and relaxes into his usual stiffness.  "Now we're good, let's go in and get some sleep before Sam's up.  Going to need a fuck ton of patience for his attitude."

"That is true.  I will remain out here and keep watch for Ruby.  It would be unsurprising if she tried to steal him away."

"Good thinking.  Alright, guess I'll see you in the morning," Dean runs the back of his neck and kicks at the ground.  It feels like he's 14 again and leaving a girl at her front door, all kinds of awkward. 

Cas reads him right for the hundredth time and gracefully moves forward to peck a small kiss to his cheek that makes him blush all shades of red in the dark.  "Get some rest Dean."

He huffs a small laugh at how monumentally dumb they both are.  But is glad one of them made a move to end this before it got even more awkward.

Walking back up to the house he feels bolstered.  Whatever happens with Sam, he’s got Cas on his side, and that’s gotta count for something, having an angel agreeing and all.  He makes sure to steer his mind clear of anxiety inducing thoughts, namely anything along the lines of how this  _thing_  (he refuses to think relationship) could possibly pan out with Cas.  There’s just too many things down that road that freak him out to think of.  But things are good now.  This is enough, it’s less complicated.  Though he still wants a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves 

Back in the living room with Bobby he flops onto the couch.  The older man will give him the quiet he needs to just forget for a bit.  It’s been a long ass night, and he could do with some sleep.

* * *

 “You’re all fucking assholes!! You know that!?”

 Screaming jolts Dean out of whatever bit of sleep he managed to get.  Light’s coming in the windows so it’s at least morning.  And there’s a towering little brother standing over him.  He rolls his eyes and gives a deep sigh.  “Here we go.”

Bobby’s joined the fray now, arguing with Sam to try and get him to calm down while Dean fully orients himself.  His cell says 9:39, so he at least got four hours.  If he’s lucky Bobby already has coffee going.

A movement by the doorway to the kitchen catches his eye.  Cas is leaning against the door frame, watching the proceedings with crossed arms and zero emotion.  But when he sees Dean watching he gives a very small smile and nod as greeting.

“How long’s he been up?” Dean grumbles in the angel’s direction as he goes to check the coffee situation.  There’s half a pot, and it’s still lukewarm, perfect. 

“Only ten minutes.  He made quite a bit of noise upstairs, I’m surprised it didn’t wake you sooner.”

“Yea well, I needed my beauty sleep.”  He chugs down one mug then goes to pour another when he feels Cas come up beside him.  “And just so I’m clear, Sammy and Bobby  _do not_  need to know about…us.”

“I will be careful to not mention it to Bobby, but Sam is already aware.”

Dean sputters in his coffee and most likely turns a few shades pinker.  Just what he needs to add to this situation, Sam throwing shit in his face right back.  He gives Cas a questioning look from the corner of his eye, but the angel is carefully watching Sam yell at Bobby.

“He’s been aware since that night in Arizona, and is not eager to be involved.  He actually pressed me to discuss things with you further, though more for your health’s sake and less because he wants things to progress.”

“That’s gonna come back to bite me one day, I just know it.”

“I don’t believe-“

“Dean!  Get in here!”  Bobby yells from the other room, apparently at the end of his rope dealing with Sam alone.  Sam’s still yelling, but Dean learned long ago how to block him out til he’s ready to deal with him.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he says quietly to Cas before begrudgingly going into the fray.  “Alright, back up and start this whole thing over.  Sammy, you know we made the right call here."

“Right call?  Dean, you can’t just knock people out and kidnap them, let alone do it to your own brother!  And what kind of claim do you have to telling me not to do this?  I’m helping people, Dean, if you’d just-“

“Woah, one thing at a time here.  It is early and you are  _not_  leading this conversation.”

“Are you-“

“Boy.  Sit your ass down and listen to me and your brother,” Bobby snaps at him.  A life time of conditioning kicks in and Sam sheepishly obliges, settling on the couch and looking up at them defiantly. “Ok let’s start off simple.  Your brother made the right call.  You are making a  _hell_  of a dumb decision, and need to listen to some sense.”

Sam gives a huff, but looks away from them, relenting his position.

Dean sets his empty mug down on the desk and comes to stand next to Bobby.  “Good.  Now that’s settled, mind telling us when this started?”

“Like you really care, Dean, you just want to-“

“Timeline, Sam.  Give it to us like a history lesson.  Now.”

Another huff and quick glare up at his brother then Sam gets on with his story.  “You know how I have these weird powers, right?  And I know you said not to go down that path Dean, but I was scared.  You were gone, I was alone, and Ruby said it would be a good way to help others the way I want to.  I guess it started about a month after you were gone.  And I see her a few times a week.  She just follows us and we meet up.”

“Ok, and what exactly does this stuff do to you?”

“It makes me strong.  I can expel a demon without harming the body of the person who’s possessed.  I mean yea, sometimes they were already dead or injured past what I could handle but, Dean, I was doing some good!  People were walking away, alive!”

Bobby steps forward into Sam's face, looking every bit the concerned father he's always been to them.  "You think we'd be acting this way if you were doing something  _good_?"

"You just don't understand!"

"We understand just fine Sammy, and we still think this is the dumbest thing you've ever done.  For a smart kid you sure didn't think this through.  What'd she convince you with?" Dean asks calmly, trying to maintain some composure to keep Sam relaxed and open.

And Sam starts crying.  Not full on sobs, but there's tears falling and his face is turning a ruddy red.  He refuses to meet their eyes, instead focusing on the edge of his sleeve and picking at it. 

"Sammy.  What did she do?"

It takes Sam a few moments to collect himself enough to answer quietly, "She didn't...she...didn't want to."

Whatever composure Dean had been trying to maintain is gone.  In half a second he's on his brother, shaking him by the shoulders, "What?!  You fucking did  _what?!"_

Sam tries to say things in response but he's still stuttering and nearly sobbing.  A hand on Dean's shoulder pulls him back, but his mind keeps running, he briefly glances to check that it's Cas who grabbed him.  How the hell could Sam just force anyone, demon or not, to just give up something like that?  He didn't raise him that way.  He tried to show him how to be at least marginally respectful.

He glances over at Bobby, who's stumbled back a bit in shock, hoping that the older man will take the lead from him again.  Be the father in the situation that Dean can't be.  He raised Sam, but Bobby has authority he never had.  

"Explain yourself," Bobby says without emotion, even though it's plain to see that he's holding himself in check.

"I didn't do anything like you're thinking, it's just, she wanted to back out and stop.  She said I was getting too dependent on it, and wanted out.  I didn't hurt her or anything!"  Sam says between small sobs.

Dean feels his blood stop to boil, but curses everything in existence.  Shrugging off Cas' hand he slowly walks over to Sam and sits down gingerly.  Sam pulls away from his direction, making pitiful sounds as he stifles sobs.  It breaks Dean's heart to hear or look at, and instinctively he puts a reassuring hand around Sam's shoulders.

"Look Sam, you know we just want to help.  You gotta know that."

"I do, but-" 

"No 'but's, this isn't something you thought through right.  We're just trying to make you think it through now before things get too out of hand."

He lets Sam get his tears out and exchanges looks with Cas and Bobby.  They've both relaxed back, Cas going to lean on the doorway again and Bobby half-sitting on the edge of his desk.  Bobby just gives him a small nod, letting him know that he has a plan of action.  Once again he's glad for his help in this, they need to drive home the point.

"You remember when you stole my car?" Bobby asks of Sam.  

That sure brings back memories.  Dean had been about 13, Sam was 9, and they'd been on a long grind with John for months, moving nearly every week from place to place.  Bobby had finally convinced him to bring them to his house for the summer vacation, and at first they'd been over eager for the time to be settled for once.  But a few weeks in John had shown back up, wildly drunk, and wanted to take them back on the road with him.  Dean had sat in the living room and listened to his dad and Bobby fight, staying out of the way but present.  Sam on the other hand had gotten scared and more than a little angry, and when he tried to join the fight both men had ordered him upstairs.

However, Sam had snuck a set of keys with him, and once the fighting died down he snuck out and tried to drive off.  Thankfully John had passed out by then, but Bobby caught him before he got out of the lot.  Dean only heard about it the next day and hadn't asked too many questions.

Sam lets out a shaky laugh before answering, becoming more collected by the second, "Yea.  You gave me twelve swats with a belt."

"Neither of our proudest moments son, but you remember why I did it?"

Sam shrinks down a little where he sits, looking every bit the chastised little boy he'd been all those years ago.  "You said it was because even though my reasons were good the actions weren't going to help anyone."

"Exactly.  You think that could be said for anything else?"

Dean draws his arm back as Sam takes a deep breath, seeming much more in control of himself.  "Yea, I see what you mean.  It's not like I've been using it much anymore with Dean back, and Cas to help."

"Good.  You better stay clean boy, or I might actually go get a belt," Bobby says jokingly, though Dean suspects he's actually half-serious.

"I'll keep that in mind," Sam says quietly, finally lifting his head to give everyone an embarrassed glance.  "I'm sorry."

Both Bobby and Dean give silent nods, accepting Sam’s apology without giving him a free pass.

“No apology is going to make this better, but that’s good.  Now that's enough of spilling our feelings all over Bobby's carpet.  I'm getting a beer, you two want one?" Dean gets up and heads to the kitchen.  Cas catches his eyes on the way out and gives him a nearly imperveicable nod.  Good to know the angel thinks things went well. 

He grabs three beers from the fridge before looking over his shoulder as Cas with a quicker eyebrow.  The angel nods again, looking in need of a drink.  He grabs a fourth and shuts the door with a sigh.  

The pass the next half hour awkwardly.  Sam's sniffling finally quiets down, but he's still left sullen and clearly ashamed.   Mostly it's just a lot of silence while they sip at their beers and ask a few questions to clarify.  Deans only real curiosity is how Sam could sneak around so much without him ever noticing.  Which was apparently easier than he'd imagined it'd be, since now he's thinking back Sam was spending a lot of time outside their motels with girls he apparently ditched for Ruby once Dean left.  Just what Dean needs, a reason to watch his little brother 24/7 like dad used to when they were kids.

At minute 35 Dean's had enough, his questions answered and an anxiety he doesn't appreciate settling in the back of his mind.

“I’m gonna go out for a walk,” Dean says wearily, running his hands through his hair and moving towards the back door.  He can hear steps behind him from the direction of where Cas had been.  And most days he’d be alright with a little company, but there’s just been too much lately for his taste.  “Alone.  Just…give me an hour. 

“Of course Dean,” Cas’ rumble follows him out the door and into the late morning sunshine, the swinging screen door cutting everyone off finally and giving him room to breathe.

It’s a pity they have to deal with so much crap on a day like this.  Usually he’d want to drag Sam out for some beers and lounging in the sun, or give the Impala a good scrub down.  Maybe he’ll get Cas to help him do that later, would be nothing if not entertaining to watch an angel try and soap up a car. 

He kicks an errant piece of metal as he wanders off into the junk yard, was a ball joint by the looks of it, and takes a good deep lungful of fresh air.  It does wonders to help clear his mind, letting negative thoughts settle down.

An hour rolls by quickly, his mind focusing on things far removed from any thoughts of the present.  Instead he spends some time laid back on the hood of an old junker making a detailed list of repairs to the Impala.  Runs through which tools he'll need for which job.  Once that's settled he meanders through the yard til he gets to an old shed at the back and pokes around in there for a bit.

He hears dirt crunching from outside, and to his immense relief doesn't immediately go reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans.

"Dean?" 

It's Sam, and really Dean should feel annoyed.  By all means should be angry and sick and tired of listening to his little brother at this point.  But he doesn't.  They've been through too much in their lives for this to be the last straw that drags them apart.

"Yea 'm in here," he drawls back, chucking a rusted wrench back down on a table.

Sam slinks in, head ducked down a bit and shoulders hunched.  Looks like a kid who just got caught eating cookies before dinner.  "Whatcha doing out here?" 

"Getting things planned for some repairs to Baby.  She's got a slow window and should probably clean out the dust from the desert. 

"Good good," Sam muses, kicking at a tire that's leaned against a work table.  "Actually, about the desert.  I hate asking but, did Cas...?"

"Yea we talked.   What of it?"

"No, nothing just...I don't really want to know details, you just needed to talk."

"You going to be a dick about it now?" Dean glowers over, hoping Sam'll look up from the ground so he can get the full effect of 'don't fuck with me'.

He does look up, but with a face of his own, "You going to be a dick to me about demon blood?"

"Well I hadn't planned on letting you forget it, but no, I'm not going to lord it over you."

"Ok, that seems fair.  Just don't expect me to be okay with you and Cas or be a shoulder to cry on."

Dean huffs a little at the idea of him running to Sammy for boy troubles.  Which is a cringeworthy thought.  He hops up onto the table to get at the same eye level, "I think I can deal with things just fine without having a-"

"Dean you've been drinking too much trying to 'deal' with this and you know it.  You can have your sexual identity crisis or whatever, but don't drag me into the discussion.  My only concern is you living long enough to figure yourself out and then keep going.  But that won’t be long with as hard as you’ve been on your liver, so that stops  _now."_

He has a point and Dean isn't going to contest it.  Cas made the situation quite clear already.  "Ok, any other demands princess?"

"No just...be careful.  I don't know, and don't really want or need to know, but don't do anything too stupid."

"I'll be fine," Dean whines as he gets off the table and moves towards the door and  _away_ from this awkwardness.

"So is it a deal?  We both stay sober of our vices?" Sam calls out behind him. 

Dean turns to give Sam an incredulous look, "There's no way in hell I'm not drinking, but..." He pauses to chew on his lip and glance around, "I'll cut back.   _If_  things stop with Ruby." 

"Deal."

"Fantastic." 

They stand awkwardly shifting on their feet, not sure how to proceed.  It's the worst part of fights.  Once they're over and everyone's been pacified, that weird energy that remains just sinks into your gut, not letting things drop.  But like anyone who's been raised in close quarters, they recover fast.

"Wanna help me fix that window?" 

Sam lets out a little huff of a laugh.  "Yea I'd love to man."

"Then come on, need to get started before it gets too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Dialogue! I'm glad I took my time with this one. Had some big developments that needed proper dealing with. Let me know what you think!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just realized that last chapter I completely forgot that it's December…in South Dakota…so them having talks outside makes zero sense. Will correct! It won't change the story at all, just a continuity thing that will bug me if I don't fix.
> 
> I'm currently working on some Master's research on the Supernatural fandom (met Misha and gave him my research) - but there's still no excuse for how long this took to write. I ended up cutting off half of this chapter, so it's a bit shorter, but needed to get this show back on the road!

"Alright that's it, get your ass away from my grill!"

"Bobby, come on, I'm making you dinner, at least try to act grateful," Dean says with a laugh as he flips the steaks to brown the other side some more.

"More like burning it if ya ask me. You're not flipping them often enough."

"I could take a crack at it if-"

"No, Sam," Bobby and Dean say together, neither ever wanting a repeat of Sam's cooking since the food poisoning incident of '07.

The three of them are all gathered around the small grill out back, sipping on beers and huddling close to the warmth. December in South Dakota isn't the best time to be outside, but staying cooped up inside is worse. They've only been at Bobby's for two days and already they're a little anxious to get out and do something, or at least Sam and Bobby are. If Dean had his way they'd all stay put for as long as they can, for once in his life enjoying the opportunity to curl up in warm blankets and kick back for a while.

With everything that's been happening, especially  _because_  of everything, he just wants to take a break for a bit. Regroup, get themselves rested, maybe restock some supplies. But mostly just do anything  _besides_  find another hunt.

"Got a call earlier, looks like there's somethin' eating people's kidneys down in Arkansas."

Sam looks up from his beer, eyes bright at the prospect, but keeping his face neutral and uninterested. He's a shit liar when it comes to Dean though, the hope for an excuse to get out is practically radiating from him. "What makes it our kinda thing?"

"Well, seems that the wounds look like a bear, except there aren't any of those in Arkansas."

"Makes sense," Sam mumbles, giving Dean a quick glance. He can almost count the seconds til he gets asked to go after this one. "Think we should check it out Dean?" There we go.

He pokes at the steaks a little, making sure they each get equal heat. "Dunno, we could, but that's a far drive without more info."

"We've driven farther for less."

"Yea, well we still need to restock things. Haven't had the chance to get more silver for bullets or refill the holy water," he hedges, hoping Sam will get the hint and drop it. Can't they just stick around for a bit without running off at the first scent of a case?

He hears the displeased sigh from Sam but chooses not to react to it. Most likely Sam's looking to Bobby now to get him to make a case for it. Big puppy eyes and looking like he's lost in the world. Dean's seen it too much to be swayed by the idea right now. He's happy and they're staying put for a few days. Plus he promised Cas that they'd hang out before they left again. Which probably has more sway over his stubbornness than anything else.

"I'm going to go get some broccoli steamed," Sam mumbles as he stamps his feet a little in the cold and walks toward the back door.

"Real men don't need that rabbit food!"

"You don't have to eat it, I'm just trying to stay moderately healthy!" Sam yells back at him from the door before it swings shut behind him.

"He's a real joy," Dean mutters and huddles closer to the grill as he prods at one of the steaks that was getting more flame than the rest.

Bobby huffs and sips at his beer, watching the flames, "What'd you expect? Maybe it's some kinda withdraw or maybe he's still a little pissed at us. Fact is he likes to keep busy and probably needs it now."

"Yea well we can take a short break every now and then."

"You can. You just never used to," Bobby adjusts his hat and pulls his coat a little tighter, "Give him time and try not to get him all riled up. Won't be helpful for anyone."

Dean grunts in agreement. At least Bobby will back him up to stay a little longer.

"Those steaks are done by the way. Leave 'em on any longer and they'll be leather."

"You know Sam doesn't like his meat bloody…" Dean stops himself as he immediately realizes how wrong that is with the past week's revelations.

They both sigh then take up the steaks in silence.

* * *

 

After a much needed man's dinner of steaks, potatoes, beers, and (after some griping) broccoli, Dean finds himself waiting on the couch. His belly's full and warm, but he hasn't given in to the contentment that usually comes with it. His knee bounces as he waits, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Come on Cas, we agreed on after dinner. Don't leave me hanging," he says quietly towards the ceiling, hoping that Sam and Bobby don't hear him from their places in the house.

A small rush of sound precedes the angel appearing in the middle of the room before him. Cas has a full head tilt going and is looking at him like he expects flames to erupt from his head at any second.

"What's the look for?"

"You aren't…hanging. Are you planning to kill yourself?"

"The hell? No! It's an expression, kinda like 'standing me up'."

"Are you incapable of doing that on your own?" Cas asks with genuine concern, stepping forward presumably to inspect Dean for himself.

"No. Don't worry about it man, just be on time or let me know if you can't make it," Dean says with arms raised to fend off whatever investigation Cas was planning on launching. Wouldn't surprise him if the guy started measuring his bones or something to make sure he was ok.

"Ah, my apologies, I needed to finish a discussion I was having," Cas says as he relaxes back into his rigid stance. However he seems mildly pleased, so at least that's good.

"Yea no, that's, fine," Dean dumbly tries to correct himself. His nervousness for this…date-thing that they planned made him a little agitated, but now that Cas is here he can feel himself calming. But this isn't a date. It's not. They're just hanging out at Bobby's. "So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie or something?"

Cas shuffles awkwardly, "I don't believe I will have enough time for a movie. I need to return to the garrison soon."

"Garrison? So what, you've got to go be a good soldier or something," Dean chuckles, amused at the image of Cas standing in line and following someone's orders.

The squinted eyes tracking onto him clearly convey that his image is wrong. "No Dean, I am a leader."

Dean nods absently, getting up to slowly pace across the room and hoping the burning feeling on his cheeks hasn't translated into a blush. Damn his authority figure problems, never led to any good. It's bad enough feeling attracted to Cas and being confused about it, but adding the feeling of needing to submit is just unfair. Instead of giving in, he takes charge of the situation, deciding what they'll do for the evening. He can control that at least.

"Alright well, how about I teach you to play poker? If you pick it up I bet we can get Bobby or Sam to join," he proposes. Cas' immediate reaction is one of awkward reluctance and it makes Dean smirk, coming to stand in front of Cas, "Or what, is that too close to sinning for you?"

Cas huffs, glancing up with a hint of defiance in his eyes, "I would enjoy learning a game, but do not expect me to cheat others out of money as you do."

Dean can't help but give a full body laugh at that, "Fair enough," he claps a hand on Cas' shoulder and directs him over towards the kitchen table, "We'll just play for pennies."

30 minutes later and Dean is out of coins, Bobby is close to kicking the angel out, and Castiel is sitting cool as a cucumber. He's created a monster. A smug, in control of himself, monster. This has to be up there on the list of dumb things Dean's done in life. Which is saying something.

"I'm serious Cas, there is  _no way_  you can be this good!"

"Dean, I've told you. Your heart speeds up when you have a good hand more than it does when you have a bad one and Bobby adjusts his hat 10% more when he's attempting to bluff."

"I've had enough of this. That trick might come in handy elsewhere but I won't tolerate cheating in my house," Bobby grumbles, getting up with a scraping of his chair and tromps off to his desk. Cas watches him go with a mildly concerned expression before turning to Dean and waiting for an explanation.

"Your poker face is just way too damn good man, hardly makes it fun," he stops and lets out a breathy laugh, "Sure would be good in a real game though, we'd be loaded in no time."

"I already told you-"

"Yea I know I know, just saying," he collects the cards and looks Cas over appraisingly as he shuffles for another hand. The angel is too good at keeping his thoughts and feelings in. During regular life he lets things out plenty, at least for him, but when he has his mind to it it's like his face is a fucking bank safe. Nothing's getting out of that. "Want to try a different version? You know I'm not going to stop until I find a way to beat you at something."

"While I would like to stay, I need to get back. Perhaps another time."

"Got some big beat down on the devil to join in or something?" Dean prods, knowing full well Cas will just keep his secrets like always.

"Not today, but we are preparing for an assault on a drove of demons residing in Italy."

A few of the cards scatter onto the table and floor. Castiel seems to not notice.

"Seems kinda important," Dean says slowly as he picks up the cards, "You sure you had the time to hang out here? I'd understand if you were busy."

"I left detailed instructions with Uriel and am confident that he can carry them out in my absence. However, I need to check that the others have been following his leadership."

"Thought you were serving penance though. They decide to let you back in the club?"

"I was, and in a way still am, but when I was able to convince my superiors to allow me to visit more they reinstated my position as a way to keep a close eye on my goings on."

"Yea yea, that's…glad you could spare some time," Dean knew Cas probably dealt with some important shit but he'd never let on much about what he really did up there in the clouds.

"I can always spare some time for you Dean. But if I am ever unable to let you know myself I will send someone to alert you. I don't want to 'leave you hanging'," Cas says with air quotes and a little crinkling of his eyes. A version of laughter all his own. "Until next time then."

"Be safe," Dean says dumbly just as Cas takes off. Almost immediately he recognizes the ache in his chest as one of missing Cas. Probably should have given him a goodbye hug or something. God his life is turning into a chick flick. He needs a beer in his hand to make him feel more manly.

Grabbing two beers from the fridge he sets off in search of Sam. Some man time should cancel out the way he's pining after an angel. Which is just pathetic, really, because who fucking feels like this over someone they've basically just started having some kind of feelings for?

He finds Sam lounging in one of the spare rooms upstairs, reading a book he picked up a few hunts ago. He barely looks up from the pages as Dean enters, "Boyfriend leave?"

"He's not-," Dean starts to defend himself but then thinks better of it. Better to not admit to anything. "Cas had to get back upstairs, but you missed him destroying Bobby and I at poker. Dude has a mean poker face."

"Yea I bet," Sam says, accepting the beer and the avoidance.

"So you doin' good?"

"I'm fine, just a bit tired," he closes his book and sits up a little more. Eyes wide with innocence and openness. If he let himself he could almost forget just how messed up Sam is now. But that image of smeared blood will stick for some time longer. Dean goes to settle into the little chair by the side table, taking a swig from his beer.

"Thinking about restocking tomorrow. Getting low on salt," he says casually, trying to get past the awkwardness hanging in the room. Sam grunts in agreement, sipping at his beer and eyeing Dean. "Should sharpen the knives too while we have a bit."

"I can handle that if you wanna make a supply run. Doubt you or Bobby want me running off anywhere on my own yet," Sam mutters.

"It's not that we-"

"No Dean it's cool, I'm not complaining," Sam backtracks, "I'd be doing the same thing if roles were reversed. Just stating the obvious, no need to treat me like a complete idiot."

Dean nods a little, grateful that Sam's taking things without being a bitch about it. Last thing they need is him whining on and on about their watchfulness for the next however long.

"So you really taught the angel how to play poker?" Sam asks with a little smile curling at the edges of his lips, "Would have thought that'd be too sinful for him."

"I  _know,_  that's exactly what I said!" Dean laughs, launching into a full regaling of how Cas had proved to be a formidable card shark, glad for the ease with which he and Sam relaxed around each other.

By the time midnight rolls around they're both relaxed and ready to let exhaustion overtake them. Sam gets up first, stretching a bit and setting his book and empty beer on the nightstand, "Think I'm going to turn in before this headache gets any worse."

"Headache? You okay or-"

"I'm good, really, think it's just from all the stress and stuff. Don't worry about it," Sam reassures, "I'll be good with some sleep."

"Alright, well," Dean pushes himself up and shuffles on his feet a bit, "I'll leave you to it then. Night."

Sam's quiet response follows him out the door as he heads to the bathroom. He hears the bedroom door click shut, and his stomach twists at the thought of Sam being left alone right now. No, Sam's a big boy, even if he royally fucked up, he's been okay for the past two days and should have some space. Dean turns on the tap and splashes some water over his face before reaching for a toothbrush. Yea, he'll be fine. Can't get up to any trouble stuck at Bobby's with them watching over him.

With a sigh and a long took at himself in the mirror he flips off the light and heads to bed, ready to get a good night's sleep after a pretty decent day.

* * *

 

Morning comes with a hint of sunshine through the windows. Not enough to illuminate the spare room, but it makes things moderately cheerful. Dean manages to sit up without complaint, reaching for his phone to check the time. Only 7:30, so not late at all. He stays leaned up against the headboard, playing games on his phone for a little bit and enjoying the warmth of the bed.

About 45 minutes later he hears the door to Sam's room open followed by footsteps heading to the bathroom. Probably time to actually get up and on with things.

With a sudden snow storm blowing through Sioux Falls they spend the day inside lazily. They drag the old kerosene heater into the house from the garage and dump it into the living room, cranking it on as high as it'll go. As Bobby works on coffee the boys bring the bullet making gear up from the basement and get things settled in for a day of supply making.

Between the fire going in the hearth, the heater putting off waves, and the little melter that's working away at some silver Dean finds himself pleasantly lulled into a kind of nostalgic happiness. A flush from the heat is spread across Sam's cheeks as he carefully tamps bullets together, looking every bit the way he did when they were younger. But the hard lines of his shoulders quickly chase away the thought of him being little. Which is a shame, cause Dean misses his sweet and slightly bratty little brother. This confused man he's become isn't something he can reconcile well. Still loves him to death. Just isn't sure what to do with him.

After lunch and a quick few rounds of poker they settle back down for a few seconds until the phones start ringing. Bobby takes up his post at them, manning the influx of hunters needing second opinions and an 'FBI' boss to back them up. Under the guise of helping Bobby with research while he's busy Dean digs through books, looking for something related to demons. Might as well use the down time wisely.

A quick meal of pasta and chicken satisfies them for dinner and then they all head to their own spot in the house for the evening. Dean considers calling Cas but decides against it. There's nothing much for them to do if he were to show up, and he's not terribly comfortable thinking about them sitting alone in a room just staring at one another. I mean, if Cas as a girl they'd find plenty of ways to keep warm and have fun, but that's really just not happening.

Most definitely  _not_ sulking, Dean spends his evening watching some mindless TV before a few quality minutes with his skin mags. He heads to sleep relaxed and focused on staying positive.

The next day finds things much the same. Noses buried in books and laptops, searching info for other hunters and resting up. But by late afternoon it's apparent someone will have to go on a grocery run, and without waiting for anyone else to volunteer Bobby grabs up his keys.

"Bout time I get out of here for a few minutes. Neighbors get suspicious if I hole up in here too long and don't want the sheriff coming around to see if I'm dead again," he bundles up in a thick coat and pulls work gloves on, "You two sit tight, don't burn the place down without me."

"Come on Bobby, we're not twelve," Dean whines.

Bobby heads to the door, "I'll believe it when I see it," then leaves before Dean can get a retort out.

Dean slumps down into his chair at the kitchen table, looking over to the living room where Sam's sprawled on the couch watching some type of cop show by the sound of the sirens and yelling. He doesn't seem too enthralled by it though, just passively staring while the light shifts around over the room.

"Probably got an hour or so before Bobby's back. Anything you wanna do?"

Sam flicks his eyes to Dean for a second then goes back to his show. "Not really. Got everything caught up, right?"

"Yea," Dean agrees slowly. They finished restocking their supplies and he fixed the car window.

"Think we should head out in the morning then? I think I heard Bobby talking to someone about a salt and burn near here."

And there we go. Ready to get out from under their thumbs and back on the road. "Sammy, you know-"

"Look I get what you're trying to do Dean. You're worried I'll get out of your sight and run straight back to her."

"No, that's not-"

"Really? Then what is it?" Sam hits mute on the TV and sits up, giving Dean his full attention. And he's not wrong either, that's exactly the thought that's nagging at the back of Dean's mind. "Dean, I'm not saying stop looking over my shoulder or being cautious. I'm just saying don't let it hold us back from doing our job. I agreed to stop, and I will, but you're not going to build any trust in me if we just sit around the house."

They scrutinize each other for a few moments, trying to decide what the other is thinking. Dean's loath to give in to Sam on anything right now, but there's truth in what he says.

"Alright, we head out in the morning," he says with a hard pointed look, conveying to Sam that he'll be watching closely and this better go well. Sam just nods, looking a little more relaxed. "In the mean time," Dean gets up and goes to flop down on the other end of the couch, "let's rot our brains out and wait for Bobby."

An episode of some useless procedural cop show passes while they debate over 'who done it' before Bobby shows back up. They split up the Chinese food he brought and dig in around the TV, now focused on a documentary about the paranormal. Several times Dean nearly chokes while laughing at the absurdity of the show, and once they finish eating Bobby refuses to allow it to continue corrupting his house and they turn it off.

Sam and Bobby set to work putting together the info on the salt and burn they'll head out to in the morning, and with nothing left to do Dean heads upstairs to relax for a bit.

Before he can get too settled a knock comes at the door and Sam pokes his head in. "Let your boyfriend know we're leaving."

"He's not," Dean starts to retort, getting annoyed at the label, but Sam's already closed the door and moved on, leaving Dean to grumble at the far wall. He would have called to him straight away, but it sounded like he was in the middle of some serious shit up in heaven, so probably best to not drag him away from it.

"Hey Cas, just giving you the heads up that we're going out on a hunt in the morning. I'll, uh, let you know next time I get some time."

He sits on the bed for another couple minutes until it's clear that Cas isn't going to show up. And pointedly ignores the way his heart drops in disappointment. He just saw Cas last night, there's no reason to be whiney and lonely. He's gone his whole life chomping at the bit for a chance at some private quiet time, and now that there's some grumpy angel winging around he's desperate to be with him as much as he can.

It's sad. That's what it is.

Grabbing the beer he brought up with him off the nightstand he settles in with a book and wills himself to relax, if only for one evening.

The second the Impala rolls out of the rusted gate of the salvage yard and hits the road the next day Sam seems to relax. Maybe it's getting out of the house that's done it, or maybe it's the familiarity of getting back into their usual groove. Dean's not sure which, but he just hopes to God or whoever's listening that it's a good reason.

They're not going too far away, just a couple hours drive, but Dean's sure it'll end up taking longer with the blizzard that rolled through overnight and into the morning. Pushed their leaving time back til afternoon, which did nothing for his sour mood. At least the heater is kicking on now that it's warmed up.

"Looks like they've got things plowed pretty good," Sam says as he strips off his hat and gloves, "Think they took care of the highways too?"

Dean pulls his own hat off, heat working its way through his layers effectively now, "They better have, cause there is no way I'm risking driving over black ice out here."

"Come on, loosen up, you know how to drive through it," Sam nudges his arm lightly and gives him a smile that isn't being returned.

"I'll relax once I'm not driving through white death."

"Or when your boy toy gets back from-"

" _God_  don't say that!" Dean cringes in disgust at the sound of that. Sam's having too good a time laughing at his reaction to say much back. "Just…we're not…ugh."

"I'm just playing with you, come on, seriously loosen up," Sam says with laughter in his voice.

Dean gives a silent huff and lets a small smile cross his face, "It does sound pretty dumb though, right?"

Sam barks out a laugh, "Yea, pretty sure if someone told you 5 years ago about this you woulda gutted them on the spot."

"Damn right," he pulls out the box of cassette's from under his seat and passes it to Sam, "I'll let you pick first one this time as long as you shut up about it."

"Deal," Sam excitedly agrees as he rifles through.

6 hours later they finally pull into the small town, icy roads and one wave of a blizzard having delayed them more than expected. With no daylight left to help start the investigation they chow down at a random restaurant then barricade themselves in the motel to escape the cold. Dean sends up another prayer to Cas while Sam's in the shower, letting him know where they are, but once again receives nothing back.

It's disappointing, and makes him a little too aware of the ache in his chest, but he puts it from his mind quickly when Sam finds a good movie for them to distract themselves with. And all in all, the brothers have a good evening.

* * *

 

"Just call him already."

"I don't need to, he's probably busy, and I'm not some clingy teena-"

"For the love of God, I told you just last week I don't want to be involved in all this but your sulking around is kinda hard to not be involved in," Sam grabs up the keys on his way out of the motel, "Sort it out or keep it all to yourself. I'm getting dinner."

"Fine!" Dean yells at the closed door. They've been snowed in Blue Earth, Minnesota for three days and despite nightly messages up at the ceiling he hasn't heard a word from Cas or seen his overdressed form. It's setting his teeth on edge to not know what's going on with Cas. Dude can handle himself and all, but it's fucking anxiety inducing.

Not that he's been explicitly  _asking_  to hang out, or making  _plans_. Just, letting Cas know where they are and that nothing's going on. Which is maybe half of the problem. He should just ask.

Looking into a haunting case is kinda hard when the entire town is shut down due to snow. And as much as he's confident in his own driving there's nothing that could make him drive with several inches of ice and snow covering the roads. They've been reduced to essentially camping in the little room and taking turns dashing to the McDonalds, that is miraculously still open, next door.

And the alcohol ran out. Because of fucking course.

He flips through the channels a few times til he finds something half-way decent for them to watch and distract themselves with. Oh good, some Adventure Time, Sam always acts like he doesn't care about it but Dean sees the way his eyes track over when it's on. Best peace offering he's got at the moment. Turning the volume down he closes his eyes.

"Hey Cas, it's me again. Uh, not sure if you're hearing these, but, figured a guy's gotta try, right?" he lets out a weak laugh, "Same place and same deal as the last couple days. Just kinda want to know you're ok."

With a bang and rush of cold air Sam comes back in the room, stomping his cold legs and muttering about the wind chill. But the bag that was tucked into his coat looks like it probably contains some hot food and that's enough to draw Dean out of his thought prayer thing and over to start divvying things up.

A small ripping sound from behind sends them both spinning in place. As soon as their heads catch up to their eyes weapons are grabbed for. In place of the expected rumpled looking angel there's a woman. Also clad in a business suit and grim expression, but most decidedly  _not_  Castiel.

"You must be the Winchester boys we've heard so much about," she quips, looking less than impressed.

"And you're…?" Dean asks, keeping his knife at the ready, though he's suspecting it'd do him no good if this is an angel like Cas.

"Rachel. I'm Castiel's second hand, he sent me," she says as though they should be impressed by her status.

Dean stashes his blade away and motions for Sam to do the same. Sam gives him a reluctant glare but follows his lead. "I thought Uriel was number two. Or did he get demoted? Any reason in particular that you're here?"

She seems annoyed that they're brushing her off a bit, and maybe it isn't fair to her, but they've only dealt with one angel and don't know what to expect out of the rest of them. "We're in the middle of a battle, human, and Castiel does not have time to waste watching the two of you learn to make fire with sticks."

"Oh, well pardon me for intruding on your important 'second in command' time. If he sent you to deliver a message that's his decision, not ours."

"Castiel is busy leading our armies against-"

"If they're able to spare you for a hot second then they can spare him too. I'm not listening to anything that doesn't come from Cas directly."

"Heaven might have made an except one time Dean Winchester," her eyes flash with anger, "but we do not have the resources to throw away just because-"

"Rachel. Enough." Castiel appears behind her, a hand on her shoulder to restrain her from where she'd begun to step forward. "I asked for one simple thing. It's disappointing to see that you cannot deliver even a message. Return. I will deal with you later." With a side-eyed glare she departs, leaving an air of unease behind.

"Well good to know your friends are so open and kind," Dean drawls sarcastically, coming forward to clap a hand on Cas' shoulder. As ruffled as he feels it's good to see the angel. He notes the smear of blood on the trench coat's sleeve, hoping it's nothing serious. His senses pick up on the exhaustion and tension hanging off the angel like weighted robes.

"She is…difficult, but a good soldier. I had hoped she could handle this, but it seems best to trust it to myself."

"You okay man?" Sam asks, giving Cas a concerned look. His eyes are glancing at the blood too.

"She was correct, we are in the middle of battle, but I am fine. It isn't mine, if you're wondering."

"I know, it's demon, I can smell it from here," Sam takes a step back, putting distance between himself and the incriminating red splash.

They're silent for just a moment too long for it to be comfortable. Finally, Cas puts the silence to rest, "I need to be going back. I apologize that I am unavailable at the moment, but I will come as soon as I am next able."

Just like that he's gone.

"That could have gone better," Sam muses, turning to finish separating their food and keeping his face hidden from Dean. He can tell by the set of his brother's shoulders that he's disappointed in himself, trying to hide a little and rein in his emotions. But he's actually in a mind to disagree, it went as well as expected. He  _could_ have had to pry Sam off Cas' coat, or he  _could_  have pissed off Rachel more than he had, or Cas  _could_  have not showed up at all. As far as confrontations go, that wasn't so bad really.

"Got anything good on?" Sam gives a nod toward the TV set.

"Yea, found some cartoons, but you can pick whatever. Long as I get my meat and fries I am a happy camper," he settles back against his headboard with the food, happy enough to have seen Cas and ready to be distracted for the evening from thoughts of him in battle.

* * *

 

_He's back. Standing in front of rows of people, strung up by the skin of their shoulders, arms, and legs. More than anything it's the smell that gets to him. Like vomit mixed with burnt skin and hair. He'd been so close to forgetting that stench, but here it is, all around him like he never left._

_He feels rather than sees Alistair encroaching on him, his presense plastered to the skin of his back and breath near his ear. He knows better than to turn away from it though. That had been a lesson he wouldn't ever be able to forget._

_"Dean," the demon sneers with an oily voice, "Welcome back. Just because you hopped off the hook doesn't mean I'm done with you. How did you enjoy your little…dream?"_

_"This isn't real. I left this behind. This isn't real," Dean whispers. He ignores the way it sounds like he's begging._

_"Who would've thought it? The great Dean Winchester, famed ladies man who's been so far in the closet he didn't even know it himself. Though with those looks, I doubt anyone could withstand_ Cas _for long."_

_"Stop it, I'm not-"_

_"Oh but we both know you are. You fell for him almost too easily, didn't you? It just felt so_  right _," Alistair punctuates his last word with a hard jab that slips between his ribs leaves him gasping._

_"Cas is...different...he's an exception," Dean says between winces. He's pretty sure there's something hemorrhaging where that blow landed._

_Alistair laughs, rumbling the surrounding air and making Dean shiver with something more than fear._

"Dean!" Someone's leaning over him and on instinct he lashes out, feels skin tearing under his nails as he struggles. They hold his shoulders down easily though, completely undeterred. A light moves across them from a window and stops him in his attempt to throw them off.

"Cas," he whispers with a weak voice. He can barely think past how fast his heart is racing.

Cas stays still, keeping hold of his shoulders, "You were asleep Dean. You're safe now."

"No, I was...I was back. He was there and-" he cuts off as a wave of nausea hits him. He rises up quickly and leans over the bed, ready just in case he loses whatever's left of dinner.

"Dean, you're safe. Take some deep breaths," Cas takes a spot for himself on the edge of the bed, running a hand up and down Dean's back as he takes deep breaths.

For being a dream it had felt so real. Even the  _smell_  had been the same and all present. With caution he thinks back on the dream, letting the hand on his back keep him grounded, but bits of it are already fading. God, just remembering a  _dream_  of that place has him close to shaking apart. He diverts his mind back to the present, focusing on the feel of the bedsheets and the steady sound of Sam's deep breathing on the other side of the room. It's calming and rhythmic, let's his thoughts settle back down into the here and now.

"Would have thought that'd wake up the sasquatch."

"I am keeping him asleep. I assumed it would be best to not have you both up in arms."

And yea, that makes sense. With their luck Sam would have leaped over and tried to stab Cas the minute Dean yelled awake. "Sorry Cas, I...haven't had one of those in a while."

"There is no need to apologize. It would be surprising if you had escaped completely unscathed."

That's an understatement. Dean huffs and pulls away from Cas a bit, ready to come back into his own power. Adrenaline spike gone, his exhaustion takes over, even if his mind isn't quite ready to sleep again. He pulls around at the covers, silently letting Cas know that he's ready to go back to sleep so the angel should move his ass. But of course he doesn't get it and stays in place.

"I think I'm going to try and sleep again, could you move?"

"Yes, of course Dean. I will leave you to-"

"I didn't say leave. Just...stay close?"

Cas regards him silently, and Dean senses rather than sees him nodding. "I will stay with you Dean. No one shall bother you and Sam while I keep watch."

"Thought you were busy laying waste to hell's armies or something," Dean mumbles into his pillow.

Cas is silent for a moment, "I heard you call to me, and I will never leave you distressed. Besides, Uriel has things under control at this time."

Dean lets out a relieved sigh, feeling some of his muscles unclench that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding tight, and gets back under the covers. Castiel moves to sit at the end of the bed, his weight causing the bed to dip slightly by Dean's feet. It's reassuring, to move his foot a little and be able to feel Cas' presence. If he needs him he'll be there, even in a nightmare. It's like how he and Sam had been as kids, when he'd wake up from nightmares of houses burning and Sammy'd look at him with wide eyes and snuggle close. He hasn't had this in years. It's something he's missed. With little trouble he finds himself drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
